


From New York With Love

by Paintitblue



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A lot of "close calls", Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, i did not think this through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paintitblue/pseuds/Paintitblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is good at hiding things from other people. When the new kid in town, Marco, decides to insert himself in Jean's life, it's like he has no walls anymore. Expect a lot of teenager shenanigans, angry lesbians, confused feelings, "close calls" and a robot dog?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know the feeling where you need to write down an idea immediately? Well, here it is. Probably going to edit, delete, or continue later??

It was roughly around one in the morning. The rest of the gang was already gathered at the bus stop. Everyone had a cup of warm liquid in their mitten-covered hands. Jean looked at his own gloves,  _fingerless gloves,_  and thought to himself what the hell was he thinking when he bought these? These were absolutely useless. But they did make him look badass. Connie was the first one to notice him.

"Jean!" he greeted him. "About time you got here. Now we're missing only one person." 

One person? He counted the people who were there. Stupid Jaeger and his not-so-stupid best friend and his absolutely not stupid stepsister, Mikasa. There were the lesbians, Christa and Ymir. Not that he had anything wrong with lesbians. He loved lesbians. Then Sasha and Connie. Their upperclassmen, Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie, were busy studying for their SATs. Were they missing anybody? 

"What are you talking about Connie?" he asked.

"Didn't you get the text? My old buddy, he's transferring to our school this year. He's from New York. So I invited him with us. Like a welcoming party."

"Kinda sucks though. Exchanging New York City for Maria City, Alaska?" Sasha sighed. 

He guess that was okay. "I'm not sure if I have enough spray cans then," he said and held the paper bag up. Grins spread among their faces. 

"Always trust Kirschstein with the expensive shit," Eren remarked. 

"Wow, a compliment from Jaeger? What's in that coffee, man?" he replied. Chuckles went around the area. 

He handed out the spray cans. There were black, of course, green, and his favorite for Eren Jaeger, neon pink. 

"Seriously, Jean? Give me the green one," Jaeger said.

"Nu-uh. My money, my pick. Have fun."

Eren grabbed for the green can in Jean's other hand. "Don't be a dick."

"Back-off Jaegar!"

"Sorry I'm late! I think I got lost," a voice suddenly said. Connie's face lit up as he approached the new comer. Jean shrugged off Eren and turned around to see a boy, slightly taller than him, with a mop of black hair on his head. But what was the most distinguishing factor of his face was  the amount of freckles on it. It looked like someone took a toothbrush loaded with brown paint and flicked it over his face. He also had really brown eyes. Really brown.

"Nah, man. I figured that I should have fetched you by your house, since you are new and all," Connie said. He threw an arm around his friend and held his hand open to the new guy's face, "Guys, I present to you Marco Bodt. Marco Bodt, that's Sasha, Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Ymir, Christa, aaaaaaand Jean." 

He smiled. You know, that big smile that makes your eyes turn into lines, kind of smile? "Happy to meet you guys. Thanks for inviting me here. It's definitely a first for me."

"Then this will definitely the most fun night you'll have for a week," Sasha said. 

"So, Jean, make the call," Ymir said.

He took my phone and called Reiner. On the third ring, Reiner picked up. He placed it on speaker phone. 

"Yo, is everyone there?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"Awesome. Now, you all know the rules. so let's start giving the locations. I raised it up to two per group this time. Anyways-"

"Uh, Jean?" He turned my head around to see that Marco guy staring at me. "I don't know the rules."

Jean stared at him, almost saying 'Are you serious?'. If he came here, how could he not know the rules? "Reiner, hold up. New guy doesn't know the rules. If only  _somebody_  informed him." He darted my glare to Connie,

He held his hands up in surrender, "Hey, I thought we were going through the rules tonight."

"Hey, guys. It's fine. I'll go through the stuff again for new guy. What's your name?"

"Marco Bodt."

"Alright, Marco Bodt," Reiner mimicked him in his serious tone, "this is how it goes. You're assigned a team of three or two. And then all you do is paint the assigned phrases or pictures, no matter how graphic they maybe, on the locations that I tell you. If you fail to do this... the two or three of you buy us all lunch. Sounds good?"

Marco blinked a few times, absorbing what he just heard. "I guess so."

"Good. Someone get this guy on a team."

Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were one group. Christa and Ymir didn't let anyone else in theirs. Sasha, Connie, and I never separated. 

"He should go with the most experienced person to show him the ropes," Armin said. 

"No, no wait," Jean said in a rush, "won't you be more comfortable if you're with Connie, huh, Marco?"

"Nah, man. He can handle it without me," Connie said. 

"That does make sense," Christa thought out loud. 

"Alright,  Jean, you pair up with Marco." 

He could have fallen down on my knees and screamed  _Nooooooo_. The last thing Jean wanted was babysitting the new kid. Plus, he had to share the can with him because Connie didn't tell me to buy an extra one. 

Reiner got on with everyone's locations. "As for Jean, dude you get the brick building on Austen corner Hawthorne and the... bridge connecting to Sina City. All you need is one with your initials and one dong. Rest, go freestyle. And I mean, the outside part of the bridge not the inside."

Oh, this night was getting better and better. 

* * *

The only noise that was emitted between the two was through the sounds of them riding their bikes. Jean lead the way while Marco followed. Jean guessed that Marco wasn't much of a talker. Which was fine by him anyways. He didn't feel like giving a tour of the whole town at one in the morning. 

They arrived at their destination. The brick building apparently was an abandoned pawn shop. The group's policy was that they only vandalized property that wasn't anyone's anymore. So, technically it wasn't vandalism. It was like, decorating the city with freedom and bad grammar. 

Jean went inside the alleyway between the pawn shop and a boarding house. He got off his bike and pulled out the can. 

"I'm just wondering," Marco suddenly piped up, "Why do you guys do this?"

Jean sighed. "Well, Marco, if you must know, we're a bunch of teenagers who have too much time in their hands."

"You mean, there's no back story? At all?"

Jean thought for a second. "It started when three of our older friends, one of them was the guy on the phone, were high as fuck one night and decided to just go for it. Then we asked to join and they let us. They're just busy with exams now, since they're seniors and all."

Marco looked like he had a hard time processing that.

"It's true. I swear."

"Yeah, I get it. How did you become the most experienced?"

Jean gave him a sidelong glance. "Gee, Marco, you sure have a lot of questions." The other boy closed his mouth with embarrassment but Jean waved it off. "It's fine. I guess I'm a lot closer to Reiner and Bert, and I have the most time on my hands." 

"Oh," Marco said.

Jean made a square with his fingers, visualizing what he was going to paint. He raised his bandanna to his nose, shook the can and sprayed on the paint. Marco just watched in the distance.

Jean finished. "Finito. Your turn, Marco." He tossed the can and Marco caught it. Once he saw the wall, he started to chuckle.

"You know, someone could think you're a Harry Potter fan with that." 

He painted,  _JK Rulezzz._

Jean squinted at him. He was stopping himself from chuckling even further. Jean smiled back. "You know what, you're right. That's the first time I've heard that." You know, maybe he could get used to the guy. There wasn't anything particularly horrible about him.

"I have no clue what to do," Marco muttered.

"What about the dong one?"  
"Yeah, I was thinking a giant dong should be seen by everyone in traffic, on the road across the bridge?"

Jean grinned. " _Nice."_

"Thanks," Marco smiled back. Jean suddenly had the need to look at his shoes or the wall over there. Marco shook the can and started painting. "No peeking," he said. Jean shrugged and turned around. There was a lot times where Marco would pause for like a good three of five seconds. It got Jean itching to find out what kind of fucking masterpiece was this guy painting. Jean expected him to paint a flower or like a peace sign, you know, something simple. But from his idea earlier, Jean maybe he could cut the guy some slack.

"Done." Marco poked Jean and showed him his creation. 

_This place smells good. _

Jean stared at him. 

"It's from Spongebob? You know that episode where they learn the bad words and start using it and-"

"Yeah, yeah I know that episode." He crossed his arms. "Marco, I'm sorry to break it to you, but you're a dork."

Marco rubbed his neck, "I should have made it, I don't know, more offensive?"

"Offensive?"

"Like the usual 'this place sucks ass' or whatever?"

Jean shook his head, "Nah. Trust me, this is the most amusing one I've seen so far. You know that Eren guy? His signature one is 'Jaegarbomb' so I can't judge you."

Jean was on his bike and Marco was about to get on his. The meeting time back at the bus stop was at four in the morning. The bridge was on the next block, so they had plenty of time. Maybe Jean could even get a pre-breakfast snack. He was thinking of a bag of Doritos, maybe a Big Gulp from 7-Eleven. He realized that Marco wasn't moving from where he stopped. He was staring with a certain amount of concentration at the abandoned pawn-shop.

"Hey, Jean, how do you feel about treasure-hunting?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco confuses the hell out of Jean even more

"Uh... no?" Jean replied after registering what Marco just said. Who is this guy and what drugs has he been taking? Breaking into an abandoned pawnshop? First of all, he had no fucking idea what was in that pawnshop. May it be mutant rats or dead bodies. Second of all,  _why?_ What in the name of God would you care to find in an abandoned pawnshop? Or in an abandoned anything for that matter? Now, Jean didn't have the heart to badger Marco with all his questions. "You seriously think the place is still filled with  _gold_  and  _jewelry_ and  _false teeth_?"

"Well, no not really. But it wouldn't hurt to look, right?"

_HOW. WOULD. YOU. KNOW._ He didn't even live here! Man, if he was with Connie instead of smart-n-safe Jean Kirschstein, both their asses might have been dead a long time ago. "You can assure me that there aren't any hobos squatting in that building?"

Marco thought for a while. "No... but you'd think he would hear us spray painting this building by now, right?"

"He doesn't give two shits about that because we're not doing anything to him. He'd obviously care if we'd step into his temporary territory."

Marco rolled his eyes. "C'mon. Thirty minutes tops, maybe?"

Jean scoffed. He hasn't broken in anywhere in his life but he knew that it wouldn't take thirty minutes to do that. What was he going to use, his fists? "Yeah, sure. That is if you can find a way of getting in."

Marco walked up to the front door and pushed it open. He walked inside.

Jean's palm met his face.  _Are you motherfucking kidding me?_  It was official, the universe hated him. Jean jogged towards Marco, hoping the kid didn't fall into a booby trap or something. Marco held his phone up with an opened flashlight app.

Jean stopped before Marco's back. "No hobos?" he asked softly.

"No hobos," Marco replied with normal volume.

The light from the street lamps outside filtered through the gaps in boarded windows. Both of them were standing where the customers supposedly waited for their turn to pawn off their beloved items. There was a couch with its springs and stuffing jutting out at several areas. The glass cases were either broken or empty, thus glass shards were scattered across the floor in front of them. Jean could still make out the shapes of the guitars, wall clocks, and posters that used to be up on the walls. He noticed the cash register, which looked old as balls, was still on the table.  

"I'm heading for the money," Jean whispered.

"Why are you whispering, there's no one here. And okay. I'll check something out behind the glass cases," Marco replied.

Jean carefully walked towards it, never not making the ancient floorboards creak and some glass break under his feet. For a second there, he felt like Indiana Jones. It would have been easier if he had his whip, though. Except Indiana Jones always ended up with the treasure. The cash register was open, with all its contents emptied out.

He sighed. That was a complete waste of time. "Well, Marco, looks like someone beat you to your 'treasure'. Can we go now?" 

"I think I got something." Jean's eyes scanned the area for his companion, but couldn't find where the disembodied voice came from. He also heard a knocking sound. Like knocking on wood. Suddenly, all those horror films that he admitted not being afraid of but in actuality didn't get sleep for three nights after watching one, had a mini-montage in his head. His imagination ran wild, anticipating the bloodthirsty living doll popping up in the corner with a knife or he'd see the passing shadow of Freddie Kruger on the wall, never to wake up from his untimely nightmare.

"Marco, where the hell are you?" Jean said with urgency in his voice. What if that knocking sound was some ghost, like a ghost who owned the pawnshop. Granted, the image that came to his mind was the guy from Pawn Stars as a ghost but it didn't help relieve the fear that was growing inside him.

"MARCO WHAT'S THAT KNOCKING?" Jean yelled.

Marco's head popped up behind one of the glass cases. "That would be me. I'm looking for something." Jean, looking cool and awesome, rushed towards Marco and  saw that he had opened a secret compartment. Which, was of course, empty.

"How did you...?" Jean started.

"My uncle works at a pawn shop back at New York. At night, they would keep the expensive stuff under the floor boards since the safes would be too obvious." Marco sighed, but he still had that smile on his face. "Looks like your right, Jean. This place is clean."

He smirked, his fear dissolving in thin air. "I told you. Now let's get to the bridge because I sure as hell know that that won't be-"

Suddenly, a crashing sound came from above, along with a loud shriek. That may or may not have been Jean. He stepped on the empty compartment, lost his balance, and fell flat on his face. Opposite his expectations, Jean did not fall flat on his face, but landed on something hard and suspiciously smelled like fabric conditioner. He raised his eyes to meet two really brown ones that shone in the dark, staring back at him in surprise. Their noses were almost touching and he could feel the warmth emitting from his skin. He could practically see how red his face was.

"I... uh... SHIT MAN I'M SORRY," he quickly backed away and got to his feet. "Uh... here," he offered his hand. Marco took it and helped himself up. Jean needed two minutes of no eye contact to calm down. He laid his eyes on anything but Marco, like the floor, his shoes, the ceiling with the gaping hole that he never noticed. In that gaping hole were two yellow eyes that blinked at Jean.

"Marco..."

"Jean, it's fine. I think I just got a little dust on my jacket, that's all."

"Look up..."

"What?"

"There's a fucking demon staring at us..."

Marco raised his head and saw the two eyes. "Oooh, kitty!"

"No, Marco, that's a demon."

"Nope. I can see the cat ears in the dark. That's a cat, Jean."

"I. Don't. Like. Cats."

Marco tilted his head in confusion. "Seriously? Well, I'm sure if we forget about it, it'll forget about us. I think that's what made the noise earlier."

_Fucking demon, making me jump on Marco out of fear,_  Jean thought as he projected his glare at the cat. His feet were already shuffling to the door when the cat jumped out of the hole. It went straight at Marco. 

"YOU LITTLE SHIT. I'LL HELP YOU, MARCO!" Jean yelled and pushed Marco out of the way. The cat landed perfectly on all fours on the beaten couch. It licked its fur and purred, as if it was mocking Jean.

"Owww..." Marco moaned on the floor.

_I'll spare you for now, you demon-cat._  Jean knelt next to Marco to see if he was alright. "Did I push you that hard?"

Marco shook his head, "I'm okay. Just bumped my arm." He looked at Jean's expression and chuckled, "My hero."

Jean nervously laughed. "That was n-nothing! Spare your hero crap for when I save your ass from a  _real_  threat." He offered his hand for Marco once more. He took it and hauled himself up.

"I look forward to that."

Now, Marco wasn't flirting with him, was he? No, that was a snarky comment, with no homosexual implications, right? Jean, not knowing what to do, just nodded and looked at his watch. Goddamn it, it was only two o'clock.

"Dude, we got two hours and this place gives me the creeps. Let's get our asses on the road."

* * *

Maria City was a quiet town that was tucked away in the middle of Alaska. The weather was either cloudy, snowy, or raining, with the occasional pain-in-the ass hail. There was an approximate three-thousand population and every single one of that population would attend the wonderful ice shaving contest. There were only two each of McDonald's, KFC, 7-Eleven, and Wendy's. Dairy Queen went out of business since the whole town is capable of making ice cream in their backyards.  

In other words, Jean wanted out. Two more years and he'd be out of Boringville and enjoying whatever they do in college. Maybe he'd enroll in some college in New York City, to start living the city life he had always wanted. Maybe he'd take art, film, creative writing? Who knows? He wouldn't stay in a dorm because he'd buy an apartment, nothing fancy, in one of the boroughs for him and his mom. He planned on surprising her, bursting into the house, going, "PACK YOUR BAGS, MOM! WE'RE HEADING TO NEW YORK!"

_Yeah, like that would happen._

On his left, riding his bike, was an actual New Yorker. He wanted to bug Marco about what it was like living in New York, but that seemed something really dorky to do. Plus, with what happened earlier at the abandoned pawn shop, he wasn't sure he could look Marco in the eye for the next days.  _I look forward to it._ He never really knew when a person was flirting with him or just plain being nice. Marco was... well, really nice. He supposed he liked him, in a friend way. Jean didn't want the guy to get in trouble but that didn't mean he'd be his keeper or anything. Damn it, this was supposed to be Connie's job. 

"Is that the right bridge?" Marco said as he pointed forward. They were approaching the bridge that connected them to Sina City, which was a bunch of vacation homes for rich assholes.

"Yeah," Jean muttered. He turned to look at Marco and realized the guy turned a little pale. His lips were a straight line. 

"Hey, Marco, you okay?" Jean asked.

Marco pulled the break on his bike and Jean followed. "I... I don't think I can do this."  
"What?! What do you mean you can't do this?" Jean growled.

"Um, I... I just can't. I don't think... I mean, I'm afraid of heights. I can't do this." He was staring at the ground and shaking his head slightly.

"It's not even that high! It's like, a seven story building. You don't even have to look down."

"I... um, I'm sorry."

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place? That could have saved us a shit ton of time, Marco."

"I thought I could handle it this time. Sorry."

Jean pinched the bridge of his nose and took an exasperated sigh. This guy just kept surprising him as the night went on. "Fuck... okay. Fine. I'll do this thing on my own. You stay here."

"Jean..."

Jean looked at him. If he considered Marco having genuine smiles or laughs, then he also had genuine frowns. He could make a puppy sad with those sad eyes. It didn't even make sense. Jean also didn't want to be the bad guy in this situation. He didn't want to face the guilt that he forced the new kid with the irrational fear of heights into doing this, on his first night out in his new town.

"What?" Jean said, his tone much lighter than earlier.

"I'm sorry. I really am."

"It's... yeah. Okay." 

Jean rode his bike towards the bridge, with no solid plan on how he was going to draw a penis on the outside part of it. But that wasn't what frustrated him the most. Marco. Marco frustrated him. He wanted so bad to figure out what and who the hell was this guy. 

Also... " _Yeah"? "Okay"?_  What kind of reply was that?

* * *

 In the end, everyone was able to do their assigned graffitti. Jean miraculously was able to spray pain a dick on the side of the bridge without falling to his death. Thanks to his height, he was able to lean over the ledge and paint the image. The conversation going back to the meeting place was non-existent. Maybe it was because they were both too tired, or maybe Jean was just plain done with the guy fo rthe night. Probably a little of both.

Later that day, Jean went to school. Marco was absent in their table during recess and Jean was shot in the heart with guilt. He didn't go to his first day at Trost High just because of him, did he? Connie explained that Marco still had some papers to fix before he could go to school, much to Jean's relief. Now he didn't have to deal with the awkwardness of last night, rather earlier this morning. 

The next thing he noticed was that there was no food on the table. 

"So... Kirschstein, I didn't ask you to paint your  _own_ dong on the bridge. The thing was like the size of my hand. Wait, that's a little to big for comparison."

The table erupted in laughs. Jean couldn't believe this. "Hang on a sec, alright?" Jean interrupted their gleeful exchange. "Marco didn't even go on the bridge. Since he wasn't able to do it, doesn't mean he should pay?" 

A couple of murmurs of agreement and disagreement came from the group. 

"Well, Marco isn't here today," Connie grinned.

"But-"

"Hurry it up, Kirschstein, I'm getting hungry," Eren teased.

"How about I get you a knuckle-sandwich, free of charge, Jaeger?" Jean hissed.

Eren scoffed. "I'd like to see you try."

"So!" Bertholdt interrupted. "Aha, I want the mac n' cheese, what about you Reiner?"

"Sloppy Joe."

"Make it two mac n' cheeses."

"The fruit bowl."

"Chicken sandwich."

"Make it six mac n' cheeses!" Sasha announced.

Jean breathed in and out. Next time he saw Marco, he was going to yank his wallet right out of his pants and take his money. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just making this up as I go  
> I'm hoping this fic would be around 10-15 chapters only  
> Oh, and is Marco really afraid of heights? I sense dark backstory here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More and more does Jean's life get entangled with this boy named Marco Bodt. And you know what? He's beginning to learn how not to get pissed with it.

Trudging through the January snow, Jean felt like the universe finally got off his back. The rest of his day went uninterrupted.   He managed to doodle during Chemistry class, daydream a nice fantasy with Margaery from Game of Thrones through Geometry,  and finished his homework for the day during study session. The day was definitely making up for its earlier unfortunate events. He couldn't wait to go home, go on a media binge till midnight, with a bowl of popcorn dipped in peanut butter.

Hey, don't knock it till you try it.

He reached his beloved home. It was definitely big for just two people. Well, it used to be for three people, but Jean never liked to dwell on that topic. He entered through the back entrance, since the front door was bolt shut after a robbery experience.  Hah, like the robbers were interested in two snuggies, some books and art supplies, a laptop that still ran on Windows XP, and his mother's spoon collection.

If he had to describe his house, he'd call it comfortable. It wasn't big and spacious, like those minimalist LA bungalows or quaint like an Alice in Wonderland tea set. The couch was broken in such a way that the leather wasn't squeaky anymore and Jean could tell exactly where he sat last night by the indention in the seat. The curtains were drawn in such a way they had enough light to see but also could put you to sleep in an hour or two. The kitchen still smelled like his breakfast, Hot Pockets. Greasy, cheesy, and finger licking good.

Jean headed straight to his mom's room to say hi. The door creaked open and he found her back facing him. Her shoulders went up and fell back down rhythmically. He could hear her faint snoring.

He closed the door as quietly as he could and proceeded to make himself a sandwich.

When he opened the fridge there was a note stuck on one of the shelves. 

  
 _Jean_  
 _Give the neighbors some fish_  
 _Mom_

Jean sighed. Not that giving their new neighbors fish was a bad thing. Giving food, especially here at Maria, which was a fishing harbor, was a normal thing to do. But it was the fact that Jean knew his mom would have wanted to give the best thing they had in their home instead of saving it for themselves, who rarely enjoyed the best things.

Yeah, Jean Kirschstein was having money problems. How he bought those spray cans was that he didn't. The art room in school had some extra over the years, just gathering some dust, since the chemicals got to the kids' heads before. It wasn't like it wasn't normal here. They weren't the richest town, unlike that fucking Sina city. Just a bunch of empty vacation homes.

He shook his head free of anymore negative thoughts.  He had to bring... some cheap fish to their new neighbors. He should pull the "I'm your super chill and awesome neighbor" act easily.

With the fish wrapped in newspaper and a plastic bag, he made his way towards the identical house next to theirs. He knocked three times on the door. When did these guys move here anyway? Jean knew that the house was going to have new people in it for a week but he never saw a moving van or actual people in the area. What if they were international spies just laying low due to jurisdiction laws? What if they're drug dealers? You couldn't grow weed in Alaska, that's why the shit is so expensive here, so what if they were coke dealers? He could be living next to a meth lab for all he knew.

It had been three minutes since he knocked. He knocked again and yelled, "Hello? Anybody home?!" He looked into the window on his right. He wasn't being a creep or anything. He just wanted to make sure they weren't a bunch of serial killers or psychopaths. The inside was bare. There wasn't any furniture at all. The walls were yellow in age. There weren't any boxes for their stuff. He remembered Old Man Nick, the person who used to live here. The man was surly, bit of a  whack job, and his house was filled with stuff, from stuffed birds to photographs of his family. Jean would shovel snow out of his driveway for a measly five bucks. Then his family came and decided to move him into a nursing home, since he was a little out of this world already. It sure made his mornings a lot quieter when there wasn't an old man yelling at his lawn gnome collection. 

The door creaked open. "Hello?" a female voice said. 

Jean instantly backed off from the window. His face was bright red. "Uh, hi. I'm Jean Kirschstein, your neighbor," he pointed in the direction of his house.

The woman seemed to be in her thirties, had long black hair, with some gray streaks at the top, and olive skin. Her eyes were light brown. She didn't seem like drug dealer or a serial killer. "Ah, yes. Hello. Your mom visited me earlier and told me you'd drop by." She had deep creases around her eyes and mouth whenever she smiled. Somehow, she reminded him of someone he knew.

"My mom dropped by?" That did surprise Jean a bit. But that explained why she wanted him to give her fish. She makes an effort with people she liked. 

"Yes, she did. She's a lovely woman."

"Yeah," Jean smiled back. "Yeah, she is. Oh, here. She wanted me to give you this," he held up the plastic bag. "It's fish."

The woman smiled even more. "Proves my point even more. Oh, where are my manners? I'm Julie Bodt. I think my son's going to go to the same high school as you. Come inside, Jean." 

 _Say what._

"Uh, o-okay," he gave her the fish and followed her inside. This was Marco's house he was entering. That was Marco's living room he was seeing. This was Marco's kitchen that he was standing in. This was Marco's chair he was sitting in. 

Marco Bodt was his new neighbor. Somehow, Jean had a feeling that Marco was going to be more than just Connie's new friend to him. He wasn't sure if it was a good feeling or a bad feeling. 

Mrs. Bodt came downstairs with Marco on her tail. When Marco's eyes widened like saucers when they saw Jean. 

"Jean?!" he exclaimed.

"Hey."

"You two met?" Mrs. Bodt turned to her son. 

"Uh, n-no! Not really! I mean, on the phone. Connie called me when we got here. Yeah," Marco stammered. Jean stared at him with a raised eyebrow and smile playing on his lips. He assumed that Mrs. Bodt didn't know about the graffiti adventure. 

"Well, okay then. I'm sorry if I can't offer you anything, Jean, since we just moved in this morning. But you know what, I'd love to have you over when we have the fish you gave us for dinner. Please tell your mother that."

"Of course, Mrs. Bodt," he replied. He has never been to a family dinner with neighbors before. Then again, he has never been to a proper family dinner before. 

"Please, call me Julie. Anyways," she had a bigger smile on now than before, "your mother told me that you could act at Marco's guide around town for a while. You're already friends with Connie, so all three of you could be together. That wouldn't be much of a hassle, would it? I wouldn't want my son to be a bother to you." 

 _A little to late on that, lady._   But since she asked so nicely, and since his mother had a say in this, "Of course not, Mrs. Bo- I mean, Julie." He turned to look on what Marco had to say. His eyes were wide with embarrassment and his cheeks were slightly red. His expression was all that Jean needed to see.

"Thank you, Jean," she replied. And he felt it, the pure gratitude that was emitted through those words. It kinda made him feel like he just saved the world just for her.

"I guess I'll be heading back now. Nice meeting you, Julie. And see you tomorrow, Marco," Jean replied. 

"I'll see you out," Marco suddenly said. He followed Jean to the door and closed it behind them. He stared down at the floor and Jean waited for him to find his words. 

"I'm sorry."

"Marco, I told you-"

"No wait. I'm sorry for not telling you we were neighbors because, um, I didn't exactly know where 51 Steinbeck Street was. I'm sorry that my mom had to make you baby sit me for the next who knows. You don't have to do that, I swear. Also, again, sorry for last night on backing out. That was a stupid thing to do, also a very asshole-ish thing to do. I should have told you earlier or at least did something. I hope... I hope you'll forgive me Jean."

That must have been the most honest and sincere apology Jean has gotten in around five years. Whenever his friends would apologize, it usually went like,   _I'm sorry but I'm still right_ or   _I'm sorry but you brought this on yourself._   Not that it made them shit for friends, maybe just a little, because it usually was true. Not that Jean would ever admit it. So there he was, staring at Marco in awe, not knowing how to accept his apology. He already dropped the whole bridge thing and the lunch-buying thing now that Jean had seen his current lifestyle. 

"Dude, stop making an ass out of yourself. The first thing isn't even an apology. I mean, how could you say sorry for something you didn't know? The second thing, it's fine. it was our evil mother's idea so it's not your fault. And don't you dare say sorry for your mom, it's cool. And about the last thing, I told you it's okay. Jesus, Marco," Jean said in an exasperated tone. But he was smirking at the other boy. The other boy looked up to him and slowly grinned back.

"Alright, I'm-"

" _Oh my god, shut it, Marco."_

* * *

 “Dude, he's my neighbor.”

“That's aaawesome, man. Wait, in Old Man Nick's house?”

“Yeah.”

“Ewww, doesn't it smell like bran in there?”

Jean was on the phone with Connie last night. He didn't know anyone better to address this with. It wasn't really a problem with Jean, just more like really important news to tell him.

“Nope. It doesn't smell like anything there.”

“ _Yet,_  ”Connie emphasized. “Marco's mom's always cooking something, so it could smell like brownies in the morning and then chicken pot pie in the evening. And she always invites her neighbors, so you're so fucking lucky, man.”

Jean chuckled. “You sound like Sasha. Julie's nice though.”

“Did you get your money from him?” Connie asked.

“Nah. Let it be my welcoming present to him.”

They continued talking about their homework and how Connie couldn't figure out how isotopes worked. It took him a whole ten goddamn minutes explaining what was the difference between Carbon-14 and Carbon-16. Then they moved onto video games, like how awesome the trailer of War of Mine was and then who would they rather date, Anna or Nina from Tekken 6. They agreed on either or and both if given the chance. Connie was the first to hang up.

Jean flopped right onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling as his thoughts started to wander on what would happen tomorrow, now that he and Marco would be going to school and back together for who knows when. Jean guessed he'd be with him when the whole gang would show him around school. Reiner would be perfect as a tour guide. He'd go,  _And this is the principal's office. Or as we like to call it, Commander Eyebrows' office._ Marco would be there during lunch, staring at the crap they call food. They'd laugh at Reiner's jokes, Ymir's outbursts, and probably at the fights Eren and himself gets into. He'd be probably at study period too. He could join their paper football league. Depending on his skills, he would be on Jean's side.

 _Wait what._

Jean's drooping eyes shot open. He wanted Marco to be on his side, as a friend. No homo. No homo at all. Without knowing it, his eyes had landed on the house next to his window, Marco's house. There was a window just like his right across him. The curtains were drawn but the lights were definitely on. He wondered if that was Marco's room.

Damn him, taking so much space in Jean's thoughts at night. He decided to fantasize about his and Connie's earlier conversation about Anna and Nina from Tekken and then fell asleep.

* * *

They were discussing about caribou on their way to school. Marco was pestering him about how they hunt them and make them into steak and burgers, when in fact they were an extremely endangered species. Jean rolled his eyes and explained several times that that was  _just_  the name of the burger or steak. It was like saying that buffalo wings were actually made out of buffalo. 

"I thought they were when I was a kid," Marco mumbled. 

"Seriously?" Jean chuckled.

"Yeah," Marco chuckled back. "Then I was severely disappointed when my mom told me it was named after Buffalo. New York."

"Hey, Connie said you lived in New York City, right?"

Marco nodded. "Uh-huh. Upper East Side in Manhattan."

"Shit, you're rich?" Jean asked.

"Um, that's a loaded question. I, er..."

Jean made a list on what not to talk about with Marco Bodt. One, heights. Two, graffiti night. Three, money. Got it.

"Well, anyways, why did you move? I mean, dude, it's fucking New York City. I'd give three of my toes and probably my pinky to live there."

"Aw, come on. This place isn't so bad. It's quiet and you could go skiing for most of the year."

"Who wants to go skiing all year round, Marco? No one."

"But-"

"Trust me, we've tried." The memory of everyone except the smart ones, mainly Armin, Mikasa, Annie and Bertholdt, with hypothermia haunted him. 

"Alright, alright. Thanks for warning me, though. That was one thing on my list of things to do in Alaska."

" _Ski everyday?!"_

"Uh, yeah?"

 "Marco Bodt, you cray."

They continued their conversation, from the annual ice sculpture contest to the lack of Starbucks in town, until they reached the school doors. Jean muttered a,  _Welcome to hell,_ and Marco chuckled.

The gang met them at their lockers. The weird thing about their lockers was that all of them were right next to each other. That was how the gang was formed. Jean, Connie, and Sasha would make small talk with Reiner and Bertholdt, with Annie quietly listening. Then Ymir and Christa would eventually overhear their conversations on graffiti night and asked to join in. Eren, Armin and Mikasa followed suit. 

Jean told Marco this after the gang greeted him warmly. Reiner gave him a pat on the back that could have killed him. 

"So this is the guy responsible for the failed dong incident?"

Marco blushed. "I guess so. Sorry about that."

Reiner shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Anyways, this is Bertholdt-"

"Hi," Bertholdt quietly said. 

"And Annie-"

She waved. Jean realized how quiet Reiner's crew was. Actually, compared to him, they were practically mute.

"Nice meeting  you guys, and nice seeing you guys again. I need to go to the administrations office to get some stuff sorted out, so I'll probably see you guys at homeroom," Marco said. "Although, I do find it cool that they already gave me a locker to put my stuff in. We didn't do that in my old school." He began to take off his snow jacket and all of them stared at him.

" _Duuuude,_ " Connie, Jean, Reiner, Sasha, and Eren said.

"Oh, wow," Bertholdt, Christa and Armin said. 

"..." Mikasa and Annie stared.

"Well someone call the fashion police!" Ymir exclaimed. "Marco, what the hell are you wearing?"

"What?" They all stared at the long sleeved polo shirt, the sweater vest and the tie.  _All fucking color-coded._ "This is what I usually wear to my old school."

"And what school was that?" Armin asked.

"Hunter College High School."

Jean didn't know what that was but apparently Bertholdt did. "The prestigious science and math high school in Manhattan?! The one where you have to pass all those tests before you can get in?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Why?"

"Well, shit, Marco," Jean said. "You should have told us you were some sort of genius."

"I thought Connie told you where I was from."

All their eyes turned to Connie. He began to smile nervously.

"So what else have you been hiding about this guy, Connie?" Eren asked. 

"I ALREADY CALLED DIBS ON HIS HOMEWORK THE MOMENT HE GOT HERE," Connie exclaimed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes they are neighbors, that was to be expected.  
> Also, Marco does strike me as the genius, homework-dedicated type of person.  
> Jean problem number one revealed. Stay in tune for the rest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dodge ball, marshmallows, and a sneak peak into Jean's household life.

Ms. Ral, with her usual cheery tone introduced the freckled boy in front of them. "Okay, guys, this is our new student." She turned to Marco, "Go on, introduce yourself."

"Hi, I'm Marco Bodt," he said softly. Jean could tell that he was nervous, from the way he clutched his bag and how face was flushed. The class didn't pay much attention to him. He took the empty seat next to Jean. Jean already accepted the probability that Marco would be in his homeroom class, sitting in the empty seat in between him and Connie, so it wasn't much of a surprise that he got stuck with Marco once again.

Ymir had done a good job on Marco, removing that dorky sweater vest and bow tie and loosening up his polo shirt, rolling up the long sleeves to his elbows. Hell, the gang was surprised when Reiner jumped on the "Makeover Marco" train. It was totally amusing, seeing the poor guys in the men's lavatory get surprised in seeing Ymir and Reiner march in with Marco in tow.

 _What a shame_. Jean kinda liked the sweater vest thing.

And what he meant by that was that it totally made him look a whole lot cooler than Marco. Now Marco looked like he belonged on the streets of Manhattan. He resembled one of those preppy kids from Gossip Girl or whatever. (Please note that Jean only watched one season of Gossip Girl because he couldn't take all that bullshit between Serena and Blair and dammit get your shit together girls.) Actually, he  _was_  a preppy kid from the Upper East Side who went to a prestigious school and probably planned on going to an Ivy League University. Even though Jean kept getting more and more information about Marco but it never connected from what he saw yesterday. If he was rich, why would he live in a dinky neighborhood like Jean's? Why didn't he move in to one of those colonials like Jaeger's neighborhood? If he was so smart, why did he go to a normal public high school like this?

Hell, why even move to Maria City in the first place?

From Marco's earlier reaction, he probably wasn't going to get an answer anytime soon.

"Please open your books to chapter 23,  _Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening_  by Robert Frost." Ms. Ral's eyes scanned the classroom for the poor dope that was going to read the poem. "Ah, Marco! Read from start to end." Jean and Connie snickered as Marco stood up with his book open. He stumbled on some words and his hands were shaking as he held his paper. When he finished, he looked so relieved, as if he took the longest dump of all time.

"You okay?" Jean asked. "You looked like you were going to piss yourself."

Marco gave him a small smile, "I don't like public speaking."

Jean nodded. "You didn't have to worry. None of them were paying attention to you anyway."

"Well, thanks Jean."

Jean immediately regretted that comment. "Uh, I didn't mean that in a bad way. I mean that this room is a bunch of assholes, since they didn't bother to listen to you. I mean, I'm an asshole too at times. Not because I didn't listen to you. You were fine by the way. Nothing to worry about. I-"

"Jean, you're rambling," Marco said, irritated.

Jean blushed. He turned to stare at his desk. "I, uh, shit, I'm sorry."

Then he heard a chuckle. Marco had his signature smile on. "Dude, it's fine. I get what you mean now. That was cu-I mean nice. That was nice. Yeah, nice." There was an awkward pause. Jean could have guessed what Marco meant to say until Ms. Ral called their attention. The thing with Ms. Ral was that she could pass off as the nice cheery teacher that you always wanted but she could turn into a fire-breathing dragon in a second.

" _You, there in the back,_ " she seethed. " _Pay attention or I'll have your butts clapping erasers_   _till dawn._ "

"Yes, ma'am!"  both of them said simultaneously, earning a snicker from Connie. They both forgot about that incident for the rest of the school day. Jean figured over-thinking it make his left hemisphere collapse.

* * *

"ALRIGHT LADIES! LINE UP. JAEGER, KIRSCHSTEIN, YOU'RE THE CAPTAINS," Coach Shadis yelled and made sure that they could hear it over at the Mexican border. He faced Jean and Eren, "Heads or tails?"

Jean and Eren glared at each other. All the other people assumed that Jean and Eren were usually picked as captains at dodge ball since Shadis got a kick at seeing them go at each other's throats in the middle of the game. Jean liked to believe that it was his leadership skills that always landed him the role of captain. His team usually won against Eren, because of Jean's awesome skills and Eren's total stupidity.

"Tails," Eren smugly replied.

"Heads," Jean announced.

Shadis flipped the coin. Tails.

Eren obviously picked Mikasa, a very strong asset to them. Jean picked Sasha, who could be the monster she was whenever she was hungry in dodge ball, so huge points to them. Eren picked Armin, Jean picked Connie. Then, Eren picked Marco.

"Really?" Marco sounded astonished, amazed, fucking petrified even. Pure hope and shit oozed from his tone.

"Yeah, get up here, buddy," Eren smiled at him. Jean stared at Eren in confusion,  as Eren and Marco high-fived.

_Why?_

What could Marco possibly contribute in a dodge ball game? He already established the fact that he was a total smart-ass dork. He didn't really look like a spitting image of fitness in his gym clothes. Why would Eren go for Marco when he could have always gone for, oh he didn't know, Thomas Wagner or Franz what's his name?

"KIRSCHSTEIN, CHOOSE A GODDAMN KID ALREADY BEFORE YOU ALL GRADUATE," Shadis clearly yelled into his ear.

"Alright, alright! Ymir, come on up."

They completed their teams. They took each other's hand in a firm handshake. It was time for war.

* * *

And war ended with Jean with a black-eye, Eren limping, and Armin with a broken pinky. Honestly, who makes kids throw hardened red balls at each other till they pass out? What was wrong with the American government?

Jean hissed at the sting the block of ice gave off as it touched his bruise. He'd be having this for days. Maybe, if he wore an eye-patch he could pull off the whole Nick Fury look. He'd go,  _ENGLISH, MOTHERFUCKER DO YOU SPEAK IT?_

Wait, wrong movie. Although, he could clearly imagine Fury yelling that at some German HYDRA agent.

Eren on the bed next to him moaned in pain. "Damn it, Jean, if I stop walking because of you..." Jaeger started.

"Then my mission is complete and I could die happy," Jean continued.

"You're an ass."

"I'm a nice ass. I don't aim at people's faces when I throw the ball."

"That was an accident. And I have to say, it's an improvement."

"Go to hell."

"See you there."

"Can both of you keep it down?" Armin complained. "Seriously, you both act like a bunch of toddlers."

"He started it,"Jean muttered.

"You continued it," Eren mumbled.

" _Guys_."

Jean sank further into his bed. Earlier's game was disaster. Jaeger had shit for brains since he chose Christa to be on his team, rendering Ymir useless on Jean's team. She wouldn't even throw a single ball because of her stupid undying loyalty to Christa. Connie and Sasha had their own tag team thing going on, which was absolutely amazing. Connie would throw while Sasha would block, then they would switch, and then there was a time they were like a dodge ball machine gun. And then Sasha tripped on a ball, making Connie stoop down to help her, making them sitting ducks for other team. In other words, they were out. As for Jean, he was targeting Jaeger with more intensity than ever. For some reason his smug face just seemed more annoying that it usually did. That ended up with Eren limping and Jean's black eye.  
Marco was the last man standing.

During the game, Jean's eyes would sneak a glance at the guy just to see if he was dying or anything. Apparently, he was pretty good at dodge ball, but more on the dodging part. Jean would also find him helping a fallen member make it to the benches. He'd call out their names to duck just before the ball would hit them. He was a real team player. Jean made a mental note to choose this guy for the next game.

Before he knew it, Jean was fast asleep. He didn't mind missing out on the last three periods of school. Their nurse didn't give a shit whether or not the students miss their 

* * *

_Fluffy marshmallows everywhere. Pink fluffy marshmallows in the land of Marsh. Jean pranced around the field of pink strawberry marshmallows without a care in the world._

_Suddenly, he felt a force hit his head. The marshmallows, now red, were floating in the air. One launched itself at him, narrowly missing his face. Then, all of the marshmallows set course for Jean's body. He ran for his life._

_He let out a scream. Someone called his name. Someone had heard him. He turned to see a freckles marshmallow floating._

_"Jeeeaaaan. Jeaaaaan!"_

_"Is that you? Freckled marshmallow god?"_

" _Jean... Jeaaan..._  JEAN WAKE UP!"

Jean's eyes shot wide open.

The first thing he noticed were the freckles. Exact same freckles he saw yesterday only in better lighting. The next thinf he noticed was that Marco's face was only centimeters away. Both of them realizing the situation, blushed at least four different shades of red and instantly backed away from each other. Jean fell off the bed.

"Shit! My ass.." he moaned in pain.

"I'm so sorry, Jean!" Marco rushed to his aid and helped him up. "Oh, wow, that black eye is going to last for a while."

"I know," Jean groaned. "Why did you wake me up?" Not that he was complaining. That was one of the most vivid and creepy-ass dreams he ever had.

"The day's over. I thought you'd be in your class, but you were still here. You do know that the school is missing a nurse, right?"

Jean shook his head, fixing himself in the process. "She's probably in the break room. like always."

"Well, I got your stuff. I mean, Connie got your stuff for me. You wanna get out of here?"

Jean nodded. "You're too fucking nice, Marco. If you wanted to go home, you could have gone without me."

"I...uh, get lost too easily. Sorry," Marco replied. He paused for a while before he asked, "By the way, what's a freckle marshmallow god?"

Jean's face reddened, "N-nothing. I have no fucking clue."

Marco smirked. "Then why did you mumble it in your sleep?"

"God, Marco, you're such a creep. Watching me sleep like that."

"W-wait!" Ha, this time it was him who was blushing. "I didn't... I wasn't..."

Jean playfully punched Marco on the arm. "What did I tell you? You're too fucking nice."

They left school and walked back home. Jean brought up on how Marco was the last man standing in earlier's game. He explained that back in New York, the sidewalks would always be so crowded, so dodging flying balls was practically on par with dodging fast walking businessmen. They continued to talk about Marco's first day of school. In the end, he said it wasn't bad at all.

"I mean, I probably have an leg up here because I already made some friends before I got here. It would have been ten times worse if I didn't know anybody at all. Plus, the tour that Reiner gave was hi-la-rious. I asked why you call him Commander Eyebrows and then Reiner showed me his faculty picture and I died. Literally. And then that secretary caught us and promised to give us detention if he hears that nickname again. What is with that dude anyway?"

Jean chuckled. "Ah, that would be Mr. Levi. There are rumors that he's dating the principal."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding. There's nothing wrong about that, though." Jean wasn't homophobic at all. He's totally fine with Ymir and Christa and he wouldn't mind any of the guys coming out. Hell, he has a hunch that Reiner was slightly gay. He's seen Reiner drunk and, well, let's just say he gets  _really_  thirsty. Also, he would vouch for Chris Evans as the sexiest man alive any day.

"Definitely," Marco agreed.

They reached their houses and said they're goodbyes.

"Hey, I know you're a genius and all," Jean called out to Marco.

"I never said I was," he interrupted.  
"You didn't need to. Anyways, even with that huge brain of yours, you can always swallow your pride and go to my house if you need any help, alright?"

Marco smiled. And it wasn't one of his signature ones. Jean had a feeling what he meant with that smile was,  _Sure, I'll humor you._ "Thanks, Jean."

"No problem."

Jean entered his house and found his mom in the kitchen, making some soup. It looked like she just got up from bed. The TV was on, and it was showing a "reality" show about some bitchy rich wives. A smile formed on his lips. He hugged her by the side and kissed the top of her head.

"Hey, mom."

With tired eyes, she looked up at Jean. Her smile dropped instantly when she saw his eye. "Jean-boy, what happened?" She dropped the spoon in the pot and let her hands go to the area.

He took her hands in his and lowered them from his face. "I, well, dodge ball. No big deal."

"Does it still hurt?"

He nodded. "Yeah, a little. I'll go still put some ice on it." He opened the freezer. 

"Could you get some bread too. Slice it up." Then his other paused. "Tell me, Jean-boy, do you know the name of that character from the Little Mermaid?"

"Hmm?"

"The character from the Little Mermaid...?"

"You mean the Disney movie? Ariel."

"No, the crab. Or was it a lobster?"

"It's a crab. Sebastian."

"He had a Jamaican accent. Did you know that? All along I thought it was just some weird French accent." She giggled. "Silly me."

"Yeah," Jean replied as he started slicing the bread.

"Taste this, Jean-boy." She held the spoon up for him. He blew on it and tasted it.

He hummed. "Good."

Several minutes later they were wolfing down their dinner, bread and some tomato soup Jean couldn't pronounce properly. His mother retold her childhood memories to him for the nth time. He nodded and hummed at all the right parts, letting the information go through one ear and out the other. They reached to the topic of their family tree, where his mother would talk about where his great great grandfather's origins, Germany, and his great great grandmother's too, another part of Germany. He stopped her right there, saying that she could continue when he's finished with the dishes.

"Hmm, alright. Hey, Jean-boy, do you know that character in that movie, the one with the mermaid? The lobster with the French accent."

"The crab. Sebastian. And it's Jamaican."

She smiled and ruffled his hair, "Smart, my Jean-boy." Without further words, she headed to her bedroom, bathroom, Jean didn't know. All he knew was that after washing these dishes he'd take a three hour long nap and then finish his homework. He was fucking deadbeat after this day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, well I'm just making this up as I go along. I'm pretty sure there's going to be a lot of fluff in the next chapter. I'm hoping I could do that. Also I find it really cute how Jean's mom calls him Jean-boy in the OVA and you know what let's put that here in the fic why the fuck not.  
> And yanna oh my god you're reading this hi.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean is a show-off and Marco tells him a secret

Several days had passed and Jean found a chink in Marco's academic armor. It was English and Marco had pulled Jean's sleeve to ask him. He should have seen it on the first day the guy went to school. When Marco was practically begging him to help him, he couldn't help but smirk.

"You finally swallowed down your pride? Huh, Bodt?"

Marco rolled his eyes. "First of all, there wasn't really much to start with. Are you going to help me or what?"

To think he would have a hard time with literature.  _Literature._  Jean thought reading a book and then answering questions were the easiest thing in the entirety of the curriculum of junior year. Apparently Mr. Ivy League here thought otherwise.

"So, you want me to help you with the lit homework. Am I right?"

Marco let out an exasperated sigh. "For the nth time, yes. Why are you so happy?"

_Because I'm better than you at something. Besides going on bridges_.

"Aw, nothing. Listen, we could hang at your place after school. Sounds good?"

"My place... uh, is still a mess. What about yours?"

Now that didn't make sense on account of Marco's house was completely bare. There weren't even any moving trucks that arrived on the following days after they moved in.

"Aaand my place has a hole right above... um, everything. We have two holes. The ceiling caved in and all. So.. your place?"  
Marco blinked. "Oh, wow. Um, wow that does sound bad. My house it is." He paused to think and continued, "That hole must be something. Mind if I take a look? It sounds pretty cool-"

" _NO."_

Jean was unaware he had captured the attention of the class until Ms. Ral cleared her throat.

"Jean, you seem to be in disagreement with our lesson. Tell me, why is the Great Gatsby named as such, where in fact, the character dies in the end?"

Ms. Ral's eyes were staring directly into his soul, that if he gave an unintelligent answer she'll drop his grade a letter lower. And the little fuckers surrounding him had their eyes glued to him, as if their opinions actually mattered. He bet none of them could even answer her question.

"Well... hmm, I guess Fitzgerald was just being ironic, and with his story, even slightly pessimistic. I mean, we have a man who worked so hard, tried so hard, to achieve his goal, which was Daisy. He had the money, the cars, the reputation. The American dream come true, right? But he died in the end, alone, in a pool he never used. Maybe that just shows that we may aspire for things, but the possibility of our downfall in the process is high, no matter how far you've gotten."

Ms. Ral blinked. Maybe even the whole class blinked. Jean bit back the urge to smirk.  _Yeah, you thought I'd screw up, huh? Au contraire, mes amis._  He had read Gatsby more than three times, just basking at the wonderfully matched words that felt like honey on his tongue whenever he'd read it with his voice, soft enough for only he himself could hear. He also liked bittersweet novels, such as Hemingway's  _The Sun Also Rises,_  and a lot of Murakami books, where the ending never made sense to him. Murakami could have ended  _Kafka on the Shore_  with a cat pissing on a couch and it would still be good.

"That's a wonderful answer, Jean," Ms. Ral said, and he felt it. It made him slightly uncomfortable and proud at the same time. "But please refrain from talking to Marc while I'm discussing, okay?"

He nodded and sat down. He found a note under his notebook. He opened it up and read,  _Wow, that was great. This is why you're the one helping me in lit and not Connie. Now why, the loud no? :)_

He turned to Marco, who was looking back at him. Was he watching him read that note?  _Damn, Bodt, creepy much?_  He mouthed the word "later" and faced front, to where Ms. Ral was teaching the significance of the green light across the bay.

Jean needed time to think of an excuse as to why Marco shouldn't see his "hole" in his house. He had his reasons. He didn't want to be seen as shit-poor. Well, Marco already knew he wasn't rich because he lived in the same dinky neighborhood as he did. But he didn't want to show Marco that he didn't have a Macbook, like he probably did, or Lacoste shirts, like what he wore instead of his dorky sweater vests, or anything fancy like him. Sure, he had the same shit house, but he used to live in New York City. Imagine what kind of stuff he'd have. 

In fact, he realized that Marco was the only one who knew where he lived and what were his living conditions, from the outside.

* * *

Usually Jean was indifferent with cafeteria food. There were times that it didn't taste as bad as American TV made of it and there were times where it didn't have any taste at all. But that day, he wanted to cry at his wasted two dollars. The sloppy joe tasted like gasoline mixed with other things he couldn't identify. Was there even meat in this thing?

"Jean, you okay?" Armin asked. 

"I want to cry."

"Let me get my phone," Eren said.

Jean shook his head and dropped the sandwich. He wasn't eating this shit. "I'm going to fucking starve."

"Here," Marco placed something in front of him. It was wrapped in cling wrap. "My mom made two. I don't know why. Lucky she did today, huh?" He smiled at Jean and said, "It's peanut butter. You're not allergic to it, are you?"

"I, um," Jean stammered. "No. Thanks, Marco."

"No problem." Another fucking smile.

_This kid has to stop smiling or else I am going to..._

He was going to what? What was the last word of that sentence? Jean didn't want to think about it. He unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite out of it. It was good. In the span of two weeks Marco had scaled up among the people on this table that he'd rather bring with on a desert island. Was that bothering Jean? Definitely. Was over-thinking going to help? Definitely not. Could he help it?

Yes, yes he could because once Ymir, with Christa in tow, marched towards the table with the fury of a hundred burning suns, he instantly forgot about it. Her eyes screamed death while her hands craved to strangle the next irritating living thing in a two meter radius. 

"I HATE THEM," she screamed, getting the attention of more students in the cafeteria. 

"Ymir," Christa soothed. "Calm down."

"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN AFTER WHAT THEY DID," Ymir yelled back. She was usually so gentle with Christa, hell she was only gentle to Christa. "THIS IS JUST PLAIN STUPID."

"What happened?" Reiner asked with a straight face.

"They fucking vandalized my locked! And her locker too!"

"Who did?"

"I don't know. Let's find out. ALRIGHT," she screamed at the student body present, "WHO'RE THE DICKHEADS THAT SPRAY PAINTED 'PUSSY EATER' ON BOTH OUR LOCKERS?! HUH?!" She only got a few stares and snickers. "FUCKING COWARDS. I AM GOING TO FIND YOU, AND WHEN I DO, I SWEAR ON YOUR PATHETIC ASSES THAT I WILL BEAT YOU TO A FUCKING PULP. DO YOU HEAR ME?"

One guy, Jean only knew him as a gigantic asshole, replied to Ymir. "Yeah, Ymir, we hear you. Loud and clear." His entire table erupted in laughter.

That was the story on how Reiner, Eren, Sasha, Connie, and of course Ymir ended up in the guidance counselor's office. As to why Jean wasn't part of the brawl, it wasn't because he was a pussy, which he was not, but because by the time he was out of his seat, ready to throw some punches, Commander Eyebrows had entered the scene. He also just recovered from that black eye from that dodge ball game. He reminded himself how he didn't look as devilishly handsome as he did without a black eye.

He was stuck in World History while his friends were being questioned, along with the douchebags who started it. For fuck's sake, they were in the 21st century, and he had classmates who were still homophobic? What a bunch of pussies. Hell, you know what, Ymir could get more girls than any of those shitheads anyway. 

Jean couldn't exactly say he was straight. There were times where he would get hot and bothered, and not over a girl. The first time was a cashier from McDonald's who just oozed of sunshine and happiness. That wasn't exactly "hot and bothered" but he did feel his heart stop after the guy asked him if he wanted fries to go with his burger. His face was cute, eyes with smile lines on the edges and some freckles sprayed across his nose, but it wasn't all about his face. It was his entire aura. It was him simply being so nice that got Jean attracted to him. He spend a good thirty seconds just staring at his features before Sasha yelled in his ear to hurry up. The cashier chuckled. It was an amazing chuckle. The time he spent eating his burger was the time he spent thinking about how great that cashier was. How he wanted to take him out, wrap himself around him on a comfortable couch. He wanted to know what cologne he would wear because he did not want to remember his scent as fries and McDonald's plastic bags (which have a very distinct scent. Jean wondered if McDonald's would use their grease to make their own plastic. Hey, it could happen.)

That was last year. It didn't freak him out  _that_  much considering they never returned to that certain McDonald's joint and that he always knew that he was never completely straight. Maybe growing up with such an open group of friends and family helped him accept it. Although, he still found it embarrassing how his eyes would be glued to a good pair of buttocks. Then again, whose eyes wouldn't be?

Reiner had a good butt, but it was too firm for Jean to appreciate. Bert had some _._  Connie, Armin, Ymir, and Eren still had some work to do. Mikasa's was amazing as expected, and surprisingly Annie's as well. Sasha and Christa had some too.

Did he just have notes on his friend's butts in his mind? Of course he did. What kind of self-respecting friend wouldn't? 

Okay, so it was a little weird. Cut him some slack he was only human.

He wondered how good were Marco's. He pressed his lips into a line. Now why did he feel that Marco's were slightly off-limits? He was a friend just like any of them. He should have notes on his too. Yeah. Definitely. He should look at them later. Uh-huh. No problem.

_God, what the fuck, Jean?_

"Be ready for tomorrow's quiz on the lesson I just discussed," Mr. Gin announced. "If you didn't listen to today, expect a hard, grueling night with your text book." 

  
_Shit._  Well, maybe Marco had notes. They were going to have a study session after school anyway.

_You sure lit and history are the only things you'll be studying, huh, Jean?_

If he could hit himself, he would.

* * *

Jean was right. Marco did have a Macbook.  _A Macbook Air._  And he also had minimal things. No posters, no CDs, some books, but they were encyclopedias and all that nerdy shit. His room was bare. When he booted his laptop up the wallpaper was still the fucking default nebula background. It wasn't a picture of a hot girl (or boy) or himself or whatever. Jean had the urge to shove some personality up Marco's ass. 

"Dude. Where's your stuff?" 

"This is my stuff."

"No books?"

"I go to the library to read."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"What?" He sounded very annoyed that time.

"Well, probably the reason why you need my help is that you don't read. I mean  _read_  read. That's how you get good at literature, you suck the talent right off the book's pages."

"You sound like one of our teachers. I can't tell," he teased.

Jean didn't know whether to smirk or glare. "Shut up."

Marco chuckled, "You do. Like a professor or something."

"'I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.' Please tell me that sounds familiar."

"Nope."

Jean wanted to shake this boy by the shoulders and scream, "HOW COULD YOU NOT HAVE WATCHED DEAD POET'S SOCIETY?!" but he digressed. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Man, you are missing out. What the hell have you been doing in New York?"

"Hey, I do read. I just don't like clutter."

"You think books are clutter?"

"They gather up dust and I have no use for them after I read them."

"You mean to tell me you have never loved a book so much you'd reread it?"

"Well... I have. But I was a little kid back then."

"What is it?"

He didn't dare meet Jean's eyes and blushed. There was a smile creeping up on his lips. Jean could swear it. "Er, you know that story about the mouse and the motorcycle? I could have read that over and over till my eyes fall out. My mom would read it to me in the morning before school and before I go to bed. That was when I was four, by the way. When I started to read, that was the first book I finished. I don't know, maybe it was the friendship or the idea of adventure that appealed to me so much. Or maybe it was just because I wanted a motorcycle back then. Anyway, the copy was left behind in New York. Why are you smiling?"

"What? N-no, I'm not smiling," Jean said and instantly dropped the smile. "I was... I never met a person who was so passionate about a single book in his life. I mean, I'm passionate about several books, but just one? Not that that's a bad thing of course. That's a great thing. Keep intact with your childhood. You go, Marco."

_Smooooooth._

Okay, was Marco being kinda cute? Yes. Yes he was and Jean wanted to kick himself for thinking that. He was supposed to help him in literature. What happened?

Marco chuckled. Goddammit, this boy chucked too much. "Oookay. So, you want to start on that assignment?"

The problem with Marco Bodt was that he was a robot in answering questions. 

_What does the green light represent in the book?_

See, Jean could have easily written three sentences about this. Marco got stuck on sentence one, which is four less than what was needed. His answer was so direct and... well, researched. There wasn't anything wrong with sourcing other people's analysis of the book but honestly,  _just_  citing their opinions apparently didn't make Ms. Ral happy. She gave him a good score on their last assignment, but Marco explained to Jean that that must be his lowest score in his life in high school. They never really focused on English, or non-academic writing, or feelings back in his school. 

"Well, okay, let's practice," Jean suggested. "We gotta unlock those feelings inside you or something."

"Er, okay then," Marco reluctantly agreed. 

"Hmm," Jean stroked his imaginary beard, "Remember the best kiss you've ever received from a girl. How did you feel?"

"Awkward."

"I said your best kiss."

"Well, I only kissed one girl in my life and that was back at math camp. I think I was 12."

Jean's palm met his face, "You have never kissed anyone since?"

Marco blushed. "I have."

"Then why didn't you-"

"W-wasn't a girl."

Jean blinked. That was... well, he didn't know what that was. So, Marco was gay. That didn't change much, right? Then why did he have this warm feeling developing inside him? He also felt a little... lighter.

"Who was it?"

"My... my friend. My best friend."

Their voices were so soft that Jean had to sit next to Marco just to continue the conversation. He considered it a dangerous move and he would debate on why he did so later on. 

"Back in New York?"

He nodded.

"Well, how was it?"

He sighed. "Amazing. Like... I, um, my heart could like jump out of my chest. Warm. Really warm."

Jean nodded. "You miss him?"

"More than ever."

"Well, you got Facebook and all that shit right? It's not like you could not talk to him."

Marco shook his head. There was something in the air, as if Jean had just crossed onto thin ice. Anytime, Marco could just crack. He wouldn't meet Jean's eyes when he asked, "Re-remember when I said I was afraid of heights?"

Jean had a bad feeling about this.

"Yeah."

"It's not the heights I'm afraid of. It's... bridges. I... I tried to kill myself... by jumping off a bridge... so that I could follow right after him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you get that innuendo about the hole in jean's house? if you didn't well i hope you do now  
> yay more backstory for marco. so i want to have a jean that already accepted that he's slightly gay instead of a jean that's in denial (which I have seen over and over on ao3 i want something new). hopefully will put some for jean and then yay i hope to finish this fic soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the last chapter and a prelude to the next

Jean was shit at these things. He usually kept quiet or patted a person on their back when they felt upset. He couldn't even comfort Sasha when her pet dog died. How could he fare any better with a person who just told him that he tried to commit suicide? Oh, don't forget the fact that his friend committed suicide too. He just had to ask, didn't he?

Marco sat there, staring at the floor. Jean had his mouth open, ready to say something remotely comforting. Marco didn't seem like a person to commit suicide. He felt like the world was a bit heavier. He was so happy looking. He smiled all the time, was polite, and all that stuff. He had such a genuine smile. Then again, Jean had no idea what was it like being a gay teenager in New York City. There were more people there, thus increasing the chances of having some stupid-ass homophobes in the population. Was he bullied all the time? The thought occurred to Jean, making him regret ever teasing him about being a dork and a nerd.

Was that why he moved here? He had so much more questions but he didn't have the heart to interrogate Marco like that. He saw that he was clutching his pen so hard that his knuckles turned white. Jean moved his hand so that he got the pen out of Marco's hand.

"Hey," he said after a long silence.

"Sorry," Marco replied, his voice cracking at the "o". Jean prayed that he wouldn't burst into tears. He couldn't handle criers.

"I... I shouldn't have asked so much questions. I mean-"

Marco shook his head to cut him off. "I chose to tell you. Out of all the people in the group, even Connie whom I wasn't really close with in New York, I trust you the most, Jean." He turned his head so that his eyes met Jean's. "You probably want an explanation in this."

Jean nodded.

"Well, you didn't tell anyone about my fear of heights."

That wasn't totally true. If Marco had this impression that Jean was a total nice guy he had to stop it before it got any worse. "I kinda did. I mean, I told them that you didn't go on the bridge."

"But you didn't explicitly say that I had a fear for heights. And I knew about the lunch rule. That was very nice of you. You've been helping me get around school instead of dumping me on Connie like garbage. That's why I'm trusting in you that you won't tell anyone about this. Me being gay, my suicide, Jack's suicide, anything. Please, let the only thing that leaves this room be my bad writing skills." Marco even managed to chuckle at this.

Jean took a deep breath, let out a sigh, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I, um, yeah."

Marco smiled, "Thank you."

Jean shoved his hands deep in his pockets. Now what? He didn't feel in the mood to talk about Gatsby at all. He didn't feel like pressing Marco for history notes either. He sat on the floor. "I guess... it's only fair that I share my best kiss so far. It's not, um, exactly as good as you describe yours, but it's what I dreamed about for months. You want to hear it?"

Marco nodded and waited in his chair. Jean told the tale of the great fair woman named Mikasa Ackerman. He told how he had a huge crush on her in junior high, and the first two years of high school. He couldn't stop thinking of her. He even tried to draw a portrait of her and realized that he was shit at art. She never went to any dances so Jean couldn't ask her. He couldn't fulfill his dream of picking her up in a tux, rented, with a nice car, rented, and some flowers, maybe plastic. She would be in a beautiful dress with her long silky black hair just down, perfect the way it was. You could imagine how devastated he was when she cut it short, on stupid Jaeger's orders too. She looked different, but she was still the dream girl of his.

Then came his chance when they were playing seven minutes in heaven at one of Reiner's parties. He was like a sweating pig. He fumbled on where to put his hands when she closed in to kiss him. He remembered distinctly the smell of lavender. He closed his eyes and let her take him with her lips. They were the softest thing on earth. She moved her lips, molded them with his, and he could definitely confirm that he was in heaven. The next day, he tried asking her out. She explained to him that she only did it probably because of the amount of alcohol that was in her system. She had no interest in dating Jean, but she expressed how she liked having him as a friend. That crushed him. He felt like he could be like his mom, just staying in bed and occasionally going out of the room for food or to use the bathroom.

"Wait, what happened to your mom?" Marco asked.

Jean blinked and realized he let that slip out. "I'll explain that another day." Marco nodded and waited for him to continue. "And... er, I'm okay now."

"That's it?"

"Well, there isn't anything else to continue. That was my best kiss from a girl."

"You told me a lot more than just a kiss."

Jean shrugged. "Yeah, okay, so I did. You told me more too."

Marco's mom came up and asked Jean if he could stay over for dinner. He politely declined since he had a lot of homework to do, since he was going to have "a hard, grueling night" with his history book. He also needed to be alone with his thoughts, a place where Marco Bodt wouldn't be. He had some microwaved food that didn't taste like its label and he went to work. But what clouded his mind as he read about the Seven Wars was Wow. Wow, on how Marco could totally deceive someone, that he wasn't all sunshine and lollipops. Wow, on how he managed to not commit suicide. Wow, on how he was such a great listener about the whole Mikasa incident, rarely interrupting him, hell pushing him to go on about the pain and the suffering. Wow, Jean was happy he didn't die back in New York.

_Wow, I want to know so much more about him._

Jean slammed his book and hit his head on his desk. He needed to focus. He needed to stop thinking about stupid ol' Marco and focus on the stupid ol' Seven Years War.

_Wow, I wonder how many freckles are on his face-_

_ENOUGH._

* * *

 

The next few days Jean didn't have much sleep. The tests kept rolling in and he still had tutor sessions for Marco, which diminished his time a lot. They usually ended up tossing away Gatsby and watching some movies Jean highly recommended. He comforted a crying Marco at the end of _Dead Poets Society._

"And that is why, my dear friend, when it has the word "dead" in it, expect someone to die." Jean winced as he realized Nick Perry committed suicide. Marco's friend committed suicide. Marco almost committed suicide. He could be crying because of the memories back in New York.

"Hey, Marco, hey," Jean patted his back. "The movie's done now. I, um, didn't know you were going to be so emotional over it. I guess I should have chosen-"

"HE SHOULDN'T HAVE DIED," he wailed, like a mother on a _telenovela_. "HE WAS SO YOUUUNG. WHY MUST THE GOOD DIE YOUUUNG."

Jean assured himself that this wasn't about Marco's friend and was totally all about the movie. He sighed in relief and smirked at a sniveling Marco. He wasn't so fragile as he thought he was. 

* * *

 

There comes a time in a teenager's life where they visit the party, the event where everything was so outrageous and ridiculous, the pinnacle of debauchery, and just plain reeked of teenage spirit. The seniors had started slacking off and had fallen into their partying habits.

Jean was eating a tuna sandwich when Reiner folded his arms across his chest and announced, "It. is. time."

For Reiner Braun, it meant throwing the party when his parents went out-of-town for their wedding anniversary. Each year they go out-of-town, leaving the house in Reiner's care. With that being said, Reiner would throw weekend parties, each party getting grander and grander every year. The whole table busted out some grins and smiles. The party was to remain secret until Reiner said so. Last year, if Jean remembered correctly, people were doing flaming body shots on the hired strippers. Eren tried to pole dance on one of the installed poles and broke it, letting his ass fall on some cake. Why did they have cake again?

"Please tell me it's going to be classier than strippers this year," Ymir commented.

"Hey, I liked the strippers," Connie said.

"Only because you thought they liked you. They're only paid to do that," Sasha replied. Jean couldn't help but smirk at these two. He could imagine them now, having lovers' quarrels over strippers.

Reiner cleared his throat, "It is definitely going to be classier than strippers. Alright, who here watched _21 & Over_?"

A few hands shot up.

Armin's eyes suddenly widened and he said, "No, you're not thinking of-"

"Yes, I am."

"With the-"

"You bet."

"And the-" 

Eren groaned, "For Christ's sake, would you explain it already?"

Jean looked at Reiner and he had this smug smile that they all knew meant he had an amazing idea. Add the fact that Bert was sweating nervously, it only assured Jean more that this was going to be the party of his high school life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's short because if I included anything more, it's going to be too long for what I consider as a chapter. And yay Jean and Marco get closer yay,


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connie's wasted. Marco's wasted. Reiner and Bert share a secret. Jean is confused and embarrassed. And someone just wanted to go ice skating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***EDIT: so my chapters got mixed up due to a draft that i forgot to delete. I checked and everything seems alright now. Sorry for that!
> 
> Okay so I suggest you guys watch 21 & Over or at least the scene which Jean is describing for you to get the feel of the party. Also you could listen to some EDM to get the feel of it I mean I love me some Steve Aoki/Martin Garixx

Jean indeed watched _21 & Over_ and was absolutely fucking stoked to see how Reiner was going to pull the frat party scene off. See, for all those who didn't watch the movie, there was a scene where the two guys had to go through seven or nine floors of obstacles to talk to the guy who know where their best friend lived so that they could bring his wasted-ass home. Each floor had some sort of party game, like Suck n' Blow, where you had to suck on a card and blow it to another player's mouth, and beer pong.

Reiner decided to lower it down a notch, since he didn't have a hundred or so kegs of beer on his hands nor did he want any spilled milk on his carpet. The gang would be the one facilitating these obstacles per floor. There were five floors in Reiner's house, rather mansion. He lived in the nicest and richest part of town and he even lived right in front of Lake Utgard. They would go ice skating at December and eat s'mores by an open fire. Jean would always leave Reiner's place wishing he never did.

He was placed on the UNO drinking game. It was all a very basic type of game. His shift didn't start till nine, so he had plenty of time to roam around and chill. All the people in their group had leis leftover from last year's party. People could move up to the floors only if they were wearing the assigned leis.

"That's pretty gay," Eren muttered during their "briefing" at a pizza parlor.

"What did you say, Jaeger?" Reiner squinted at him.

"Well, it is, isn't it?"

Ymir rolled her eyes. "Jesus, you're an ignorant prick."

"You can lecture him later," Christa said. "Let's all focus on the party now."

Jean wondered if Marco felt offended, since he was, you know, gay. He said that he didn't feel _that_ offended. He's heard worse.

Reiner, being the kind person he was, allowed Marco to roam freely around his house on the party.

"Like a welcoming present. Graffiti Night wasn't exactly welcoming, was it?"

Marco chuckled and waved it off. "It was definitely something."

Jean remembered the time where he fell on Marco, their faces only inches apart. How long ago was that? A month and a half? Now they were both standing outside Reiner's house to ready the preparations.

"I have to say, this isn't how we do it in New York," Marco said. The lights were set up. The windows were an array of colors that painted the facades of the houses in a five feet radius.

"Tell me, do you have like D&D parties back in New York?" Jean teased.

Marco blushed a deep shade of red. "Hey, there isn't anything wrong with D&D."

"You did! You fucking had Dungeon and Dragons at parties. Holy shit." Jean tried to suppress his laughter.

"Shut up, Jean," Marco glared.

"Make me," he smirked, crossing his arms on his chest.

There was a myriad of emotions that passed Marco's face. First was confusion, then was something Jean couldn't place. His lips were pressed and he was looking at a plant, like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He balled his fists and blushed.

"Let's go in before I beat your ass," Marco muttered. He left Jean with his mouth agape.

He was already at Reiner's steps when Jean called out, "YO, WHERE DID MARCO BODT GO?" He could have sworn Marco chuckled with him.

* * *

"Yeah, you think you're hot shit, huh, Bodt? Come at me, bro!" Connie taunted.

A Steve Aoki song was playing in the background. Marco didn't pay any attention to Connie's taunts. He closed an eye and readied his aim. But he would adjust his arm's angle and height several times before he actually threw the ball.

"Getting old here, Bodt!"

He threw the ping pong ball in the air and it landed in the middle cup. Marco threw his hands in the air and exclaimed, "YES!" Jean nodded in approval and high fived him.

"It's all about the physics," Marco said.

"Whatever, you nerd," Jean replied. Connie was on the other side cursing Marco's freckled ass.

_Which reminds me, I still don't have any notes on his-_

"I am going to get us some Doritos!" he announced and left. What did he have in him? What, two cups of beer and already the inappropriate thoughts?

He would hate to admit that whenever he gets drunk, he becomes thirsty. _Really thirsty._ One time, he was so drunk he hit up a pole, thinking it was a hot girl. _A pole for Christ's sake._ However, it took a whole lot more than beer and a couple of shots to get him to grind against a pole.

He squeezed in the food table and grabbed a bag of Doritos. There were more people here than expected. Some people weren't from their school, like those private Christian ones. Some weren't even in high school anymore. Even though succumbing to a high school party was kinda embarrassing for a college student, Reiner's parties were so great you'd be out of your mind to pass it up.

He passed some stoners, uncomfortable geeks, loud douchebags and of course, couples in the midst of PDA.  
"Get a room!" he yelled to a couple making out. The guy lifted his hand and flipped a bird at him. Seriously, Reiner's house was huge go find a fucking enclosed area.

He trudged through the sea of people and reached the beer pong table. Or so he assumed it was because there was a ring of people crowded over one area. He pushed into the crowd and stood right next to Connie. He was already swaying.

Each of them had one cup left and it was Marco who had the ball.

Connie yelled something but Jean only caught "bro" and "fuck".

"Fuck physics," Marco said and threw the ball. It landed in Connie's cup. People cheered with him. Jean clapped for Marco and patted Connie on the back. "I'm going to find, Sasha since it's her turn, okay?"

He nodded and sulked into the corner.

* * *

UNO was a game that could tear friendships apart, almost like Monopoly, only the amount of time you spend on one game was the amount of time you stay mad at your friends. With the UNO drinking game, it's practically the same thing except you won't remember you were mad at your friends by tomorrow morning.

It was a simple game. If you throw a wildcard down, you take a shot. If you throw a plus two card, you take a shot. Skip, shot. Reverse, shot. Don't say UNO, shot and two cards.

The fun part was when you used Cuerva tequila.

Jean was an adequate UNO player and was finishing his third game. The faces around him were two guys he passed in the halls a lot, his ex lab partner named Thomas, and two females from the all-girls private school. The music was too loud for him to catch their names. Well, Jean assumed they would be placed in the "supermegaawesomefoxyhot" level on the scale of hotness for other people. Waist-length hair, blonde and brunette, heavy eye-shadow, revealing tops and just the right amount of cleavage. He preferred natural looking girls, like Mikasa, but they were alright. He'd laugh whenever one of them would exclaim in exasperation. One of them, the blonde, touched his hand a lot.

Jean threw his last card down. "I win."

The guys groaned in failure, one of them threw the cards in the air.

"Hey, dude, don't mess with the cards," Jean warned and got on his knees to collect the messed up cards. _Assholes._ He heard a feminine cough and looked up, inadvertently glancing at the blonde girl's red underwear. He blushed the same shade of deep red and averted his gaze. She chuckled and held her hand out.

Maybe it was the alcohol, that made him hold her hand. But Jean hated that intoxication could be used as such a valid excuse. He believed that alcohol was a confidence serum but half of its effectiveness comes from believing that one could use it as a valid excuse.

She was at Jean's eye level. She had extremely blue eyes. Definitely not Jean's type, but why not, right?

"You were _amazing,"_ she said, practically sang. Girls like to sing their adjectives when they flirt with guys.

_Wait, she's flirting with me?_

"Aha," Jean chuckled, "I was okay. I didn't catch your name earlier. I'm Jean."

" _Jean,_ what a cool name. I'm June."

"So, June, where' your friend?"

"Getting some drinks. Guess we're stuck in this floor. It _sucks._ "

Jean looked around and knew that it did not suck. There were comfortable leather couches, a good amount of beer, and a slight haze from the smoke coming from the stoners. The multicolored light improved the ambiance, giving the room a mysterious yet fun aura.

"Really? I think it's cool."

" _Yeaaah,_ but I want to see the other floors. The other stuff, you know?" She pouted and batted her eyelashes at Jean.

_Oh_ , _I get it_ _now._

Before Jean could tell her to get some UNO skills before she could get her ass up to the next floor, Marco popped up. Jean had left him on the second floor to go to his shift on the third. The second floor was made up of thinking type of drinking games, like the Name Game or I Never. For the amount of time Marco was there, Jean figured he wasn't thinking straight anymore. He was swaying from side to side and he was giggling all the time. Jean brushed aside the bitch and went to Marco straighten him up. He practically fell into his arms. 

_So fucking heavy..._

"Dude, what did you have for breakfast?!" Jean exclaimed and pushed Marco upright before he could be squashed by him.

"Uh... I forgot," and he giggled.

"Well, okay. You need to chill."

"We could ch-hill at ice shkating!"

"It's February. Even if we're in Alaska, it's still not safe-"

"Hey,  _Jeaan,_  I heard you keep all the leis," June interrupted them. Jean rolled his eyes and was about to tell her to fuck off before Marco said, "Hey, hey, Jean, who is she?"

"I don't fucking know."

"You sure? You... you were talking to her a while ago."

"Yeah, so what?"

Marco leaned in and whispered to Jean's ear, "Jeaaan, 're you gay?"

Only that whisper came a little louder that expected, causing some people to turn their attention to the both of them. Jean was still holding this motherfucker up. He did look a little gay. He dragged him towards an empty space in one of the couches, avoiding as much eye contact as possible. This was so awkward he could die right then and there.

"Now isn't the time to talk about my sexuality, Marco. I'm going to get you some water and-"

"Jeaaaan, y're so nish."

"What?"

"Y're _niiiiice_ taking care of me like this. 'Ve always been so nish." Marco's hand went up to cup Jean's face and he pressed his cheek against his. Not only did he press his cheek, he was rubbing it against Jean's.

"OKAY, WATER. WATER WATER WATER," Jean exclaimed and almost fell on his ass from quickly backing away from Marco. He left the people to do whatever to get water downstairs in the kitchen.

While he was racing downstairs, his face burning red, especially at the area where Marco placed his cheek, his heart was thumping, and his fists clenched so hard he could feel his nails digging into his palms. Marco was drunk. This was not the Marco he knew. He would never do that under any other circumstances.

_He didn't like me that way._

Nope, he was drunk. Soooo drunk. Absolutely drunk. Which totally contradicted Jean's philosophy of using alcohol as an excuse for people's actions. Maybe Marco was an exception. There were always exceptions to philosophies, theories, all that shit. His fingers were fumbling with the water dispenser. His hand was shaking the red solo cup.

Considering that Marco was really drunk, why was Jean overreacting? Jesus, they'll all laugh about this later. Right?

Right. Absolutely fucking right. Now all he needed to do was to bring this cup of water to his extremely intoxicated friend and continue his shift. No big deal.

"Hey, dude, could you hand me a cup?"

Jean nodded and grabbed a cup from the stack. He handed it to the guy behind him. Something was familiar with this guy. Obey hoodie. Snapback. He had a bandage across his nose.

"Bro, pour me some too!" someone called from the crowd.

"Sure," replied the guy. There was something familiar about the other guy too. He had a patch covering his cheek.

_Shit._

Jean speed-walked the hell out of there. He had to tell Reiner before Ymir freaked out and crashed the whole place. Reiner hated people fighting in his house. The last party he banned some people from ever going to his parties because they started a brawl and broke one of his mother's vases. Knowing Ymir, she wouldn't give two shits and beat their asses all over again.

He got to the third floor and searched for Marco. There was only an empty space in where he was supposed to be.

_Shit. Double shit._

Okay, no problem. Jean would just go to Reiner first and then look for Marco.

"Hey, are you the dealer for UNO?" someone asked him.

"Nope. That guy is," he pointed at a guy puking into one of the trash can. Man, that was nasty.

Jean went up to the fifth floor and opened the door. The fifth floor was the attic and where Reiner would look over things through their family's CCTV. Jean burst through the door and said, "REINER, DUDE, THOSE HOMOPHOBIC ASSHOLES FROM SCHOOL ARE HERE AND IF YOU DON'T KICK THEM OUT YMIR COULD BLOW THE ROOF AND PROBABLY BREAK YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING HOUSE."

Little did he know that he had interrupted a make-out session between Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Fubar.

_Whoops._

* * *

"Can you run that by me one more time?" Reiner asked.

Reiner had played it cool and calmly slipped Bert off him. As for Bert, once he got off Reiner's lap, he stood behind Reiner and sweated bullets. His face was bright red and didn't dare look at anything but the floor. Jean wanted to wash his eyeballs for just a minute or two.

"Uh, I, those guys. The ones who vandalized Ymir and Christa's locker. They're here. And, yeah. I know you hate people fighting in your house so..."

He nodded. "Okay. I'll go kick them out."

An awkward silence passed between the three of them. Jean decided it was about time he went to go find Marco.  
"Okay then," he muttered and turned on his heel.

"Wait," Reiner said.

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell anybody yet, okay? We... we were planning to come out tomorrow over smoking the left over weed."

"How do you know there would be leftover weed?"

"Because I'm not stupid enough to give everything out."

"Oh," Jean said. "Okay, I promise. I just have one question. How long?"

Reiner pressed his lips and was about to reply. Bert cut him off and answered, "Ever since last year. At the party."

"Wow," Jean let out. He didn't know how to react at first. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know why they kept it a secret for so long. He wanted to know why would they hide it when they weren't the only gay couple in the group?

Jean smiled and said, "I'm happy for you. I really am. No one will know about this, I swear."

Reiner nodded and returned a smile. So did Bert. Reiner stood up from his chair and Bert followed to go throw out some assholes.

They descended down five floors and Jean scanned around for Marco and failed to spot him. His thoughts would wander back to Reiner and Bert as he trudged through the crowd of people. It kind of made sense. Bert followed Reiner wherever he went, but he would knock some sense into him whenever he became too wild. Reiner would become defensive upon talking about homosexuality, just like what Eren said about the leis. Those two always went home together since last year, but unlike Marco and Jean, they didn't live right next to each other. They said they were studying for the SATs but Jean hasn't seen a single reviewer book in their arms. 

The three of them arrived at the living room and instantly spotted the group of guys playing beer pong against Sasha.

"Man, you're losing! You got no game!" she laughed. The guys only smirked at her.

Reiner tapped on of the guys' shoulder and made a gesture for them to get the hell out of his house.

"Yeah, what are you gonna do, Braun?" These guys had no chance against Reiner and Bert. Both of them used to be on the football team while these guys didn't look like they even lift.

Reiner crossed his arms. "You're kinda weak in the brain, aren't you? Remember who gave you that broken nose?"

The guy scowled in embarrassment. "That was last week. It's going to be different today."

"I'm not going to fight you."

The guy chuckled and cracked his fists. "And what are you going to do then, Braun?"

" _Jean!"_

_Uh-oh._ He turned to see Marco with two other people he recognized, Franz what's his name and his girlfriend. He wobbled towards Jean with a red solo cup in his hand. "You lef me upstairs!"

Jean stepped aside from the slowly developing brawl and focused on Marco. "Yeah, I'm sorry. Something came up."

"You didin' answer my queshion!"

"Marco this isnt the time-"

"Well, you know I'm gay. A free gay-"

Jean panicked. The last thing he needed was a bunch of assholes bullying Marco because of his sexuality. "Dude, you need to shut up."

"Why? You don' accept me for who I am?"

"What? No, I-"

"You don' think being gay is okay?"

"Marco lower your voice."

"I am gay and proud! Full homo!"

_Oh, god, please don't start rubbing your cheek on me now._

"Dude, shut the fuck up or I am going to shut you up."

Marco's mouth fell open. "Well, fuck you Kirschstein! Imma go ice skating with my new friends!" he drunkenly pointed at a random direction. He stormed off.

Jean pinched the bridge of his nose. This was _so_ not the time. He walked back to Reiner, hoping that this bunch of douchebags didn't overhear their conversation.

"I'll say this one last time. Get out."

Jean crossed his arms and glared at them. So did Sasha. Connie too. Soon enough Jean realized Reiner must have texted the others because the whole group, except Marco, Ymir and Christa, was ganging up on them. Four to eight.

Fear flashed in their leader's eyes. His eyes darted from left to right. He pressed his lips together. He gave Reiner one last glare and headed to the door. They all escorted them out.

Jean sighed in relief and grinned. One problem solved.

There was a scream that pierced the air from a distance. The music was silenced and had murmurs replace it. The group pushed past the people to find Christa in the kitchen, looking like a scared animal.

"What's up?" Reiner asked, a bit of panic in his tone.

"Someone fell in the lake. I think they tried to go ice skating."

They noticed that Jean was not with them anymore. He was pushing past the crowd that had gathered in the backyard. There were two people who distanced themselves from the rest. They were standing right on the bank of the river. Jean ran towards them to see that it was Franz clutching his girlfriend next to him. The frozen river was cracked, had some ice floating around the human sized whole a few meters away.

He didn't need an explanation.

He didn't have a plan.

He had a mantra.

_Save him. Save him. Save him._

He took off his jacket and dove in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god thank you for all the kudos and nice comments and the bookmarks and aaaah. This fic is going to finish up soon, 10 chapters as planned and I am so happy that I've made it this far because usually I'd just drop the whole thing and make another fic. Was that chapter pretty intense? Do you guys like drunk Marco because I like drunk Marco. We're going to see a lot of different types of Marco soon.  
> If you feel like it, go comment and tell me how you guys felt about it or whatever. It's much appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's okay but not exactly.

Jean hated hospitals. It reeked of death and depression. He also hated the beeping.

_So. Much. Beeping._

He was playing a stupid game on his phone on the uncomfortable waiting area. They were running the air conditioner here so hard Jean could feel his fingers slowly turning blue. The chairs were made out of metal so it didn't help with his frost bite. He died after passing two pipes. What kind of sadistic person invented _Flappy Bird_ anyway? He played another game anyway. He didn't know how long it would take for Marco to wake up, so might as well to try to get good in this fucking game.

Right now, he didn't want to think what _might_ happen. After some experience with the unconscious, no matter how many _what ifs_ you ask you can never get an answer right away. It was useless worrying about him. It only made Jean's mind more tired and his heart heavier.

The events of Marco's hospitalization were a blur. He didn't exactly think it through, thus ending up almost drowning himself as well. Luckily a few seconds later he jumped in, a climbing rope was thrown into the water and Jean grabbed it like his life depended on it. Technically, it did as well as Marco's. They drove him in Reiner's car, without Reiner because he needed to fix up the party. Jean, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Connie, and Sasha were all either buzzed or drunk so they had Annie drive. Jean was shitting his pants. First, it was cold as fuck. He didn't have time to change his clothes, which ended up with him wearing only a jacket, pants, and a towel. Second, Marco was barely breathing. Third, they couldn't get a pulse off him.

They arrived at the hospital's ER bay and wheeled them in. They collectively described Marco's situation to the nurses, complete with outrageous hand gestures and yelling. When his mom arrived she ran straight into the room. It was two in the morning when she came out. Her hands were shaking and she kept biting her lip. She looked at them and smiled a bit.

"Thank you for bringing Marco here."

"What's the diagnosis?" Connie said. They got him two cups of coffee to sober up and realize the current situation.

"He's... he has hypothermia. HIs pulse is weak but he isn't going to die. He's still unconscious. Now, it's time for you to go home. Your parents are probably worried."

They kind of hesitated but the look in Julie's eyes said that she was ready to gag them and bring them home herself if she had to. They slowly turned on their heels and started walking towards the elevator.

"Except you, Jean," she suddenly called out. "I want to talk to you."

He gulped and nodded. He looked back at his friends and smiled to assured them that he was going to be okay. He shuffled closer to Julie and waited.

She couldn't find her words at first. With one big sigh she said, "Tell me, did he tell you? As to why we moved from New York?"

He shook his head.

She folded her hands across her lap. "After his attempted suicide, I started worrying about him. I sent him to a shrink and they suggested that he should move to somewhere less stressful. I thought about Connie's parents, his mother was a close friend of mine back in high school, who moved to Alaska after college. I always wondered what did Alaska have for them compared to New York. They said that New York was too loud. Unfortunately, Marco's father didn't see eye to eye on this and stayed behind. One night I tried to convince him, he got violent. He called Marco things that you would never expect a father to call his son. We left that night by the skin of our teeth. Now, I'm asking you..." She paused to look at Jean directly in the eye. "Do you think you're doing a good job protecting my boy?"

"I-"

"Because I don't think so."

This woman, he never expected her to be so curt and cold. She couldn't help it. This was the second time her son nearly died. But then again, who was the person that pulled out her son?

_Then again, you could have died if it weren't for your friends who pulled_ you _out of the water._

"When I said you'd be Marco's guide around town, I meant a little bit more than just showing him around. I thought you understood that, whenever you came to our house to help him in his homework, whenever you two would walk together to school, or whenever you'd ask to hang out with him. Jean, I want you to understand the last thing I need is my boy to fall in love with another boy who could get him into trouble again."

_Again?_

_Fall in love?_

"Julie, what do you mean love?"

She shook her head, "I see... I see how he looks at you Jean and I could tell. It's the same way he would look at Jack, his stupid friend from New York. He was dangerous. He was deadly. I was so unsure of their friendship but Marco didn't have much friends. I had to let him keep this one. I was so wrong. So wrong. And now, he's done it again." She wiped away the tears that formed in her eyes. "I don't want to almost lose him again. I want him safe. And apparently being around you isn't helping."

"I-"

"Do you understand? I don't want my son illegally drinking. I don't want him partying. I don't want him to be near the likes of you and your friends."

"I-I understand."

A nurse came out of Marco's room and headed towards them. "Mrs. Bodt, your son is awake. Would you like to see him?"

She gasped. "Yes, please.

"Julie, I want to see him too."

She shot him a glare. "What did I just say, Jean? I said-"

"To say goodbye."

She hesitated. She bit her lip and nodded.

They entered his room and there he was, smiling like his usual self. Julie clutched his arm and cried. Jean stood right in front of the door, feeling like he was interrupting something.

Julie placed her hands on the sides of his face. "Marco, Marco, I am so happy that you're okay. I am so glad. You're okay," she said in between sniffs.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I was being irresponsible," he smiled back at her. His voice was hoarse.

"Yes, yes you were you stupid boy."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mom." His eyes darted from his mother to Jean. Jean tensed at his gaze.

"Jean, what are you doing here?"

"I..., um, we have to talk."

"Okay," Marco nodded.

"Uh, alone. If that's possible, Julie."

"If you have anything to say to my son you can say it in front of me too."

"Mom," Marco whined. "C'mon."

Her eyes shifted from Jean to Marco, from hate to love, and backed away from the bed. She walked to the door and exited.

Jean walked closer to Marco. He looked pretty fine to him.

"How are you, Jack Frost?" Jean tried to joke. "You do understand that reference, right?"

"Because Jack Frost was like the spirit of winter, right?"

Jean shook his head and smiled. "Forget it. Anyways, answer the question."

"Tired. A little cold but hey, I'll live." He paused and averted his eyes."You're turn."

"What?"

"You never got answer my question."

Jean sighed. This definitely wasn't the time but might as well, right? "I'm bisexual. Why did you keep asking when you were drunk anyway?

"Because... Because I just wanted to confirm my suspicions."

Silence passed between them. Jean decided it was time to break it to him. "Your mom said we can't hang out anymore. And I mean you and the gang."

"What?" he snapped. "Why would she-"

"She said we-I was dangerous for you. Like Jack. I have to admit, I shouldn't have left you so wasted."

"No, Jean," he argued. "This was my fault for getting _that_ drunk. And, no, oh my god, no you are _nothing_ like Jack. She isn't doing this."

"Marco, she has a point. Listen, she just doesn't want you to die again. You have quite a habit of it apparently."

"You think I wanted to fall in a half-frozen lake, Jean? I was fucking drunk. It wasn't like the last time."

It was so rare for him to hear Marco say "fucking".

"God, Jean, I am not suicidal. I'm fine," Marco replied. "What I want to know was why you were shouting at me to shut up about me being gay."

"You know those homophobes who sprayed Ymir and Christa's locker? Yeah, they were within earshot so I tried to tell you to be quiet."

"So?"

" _Well,_ I was trying to protect you."

"But you couldn't protect me from falling into a half-frozen lake?"

"I thought you said this wasn't my fault."

"You _could_ have left me with someone you trusted instead of leaving me alone."

"I said I was getting you water because you were so fucking drunk that you rubbed your cheek on mine. I was too shocked to think of anything else, alright?"

"Why were you shocked? I was drunk. Drunk people do shit."

"Well, um..."

Jean couldn't exactly give an answer to that.

"Why were you so shocked?" Marco pressed on.

"I don't know, Marco."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know, alright? Sheesh."

Marco glared at him. This guy was so full of fucking questions. When he opened his mouth he asked another one.

"What are you going to do after you go home? Are you going to follow what my mom said?"

"We can't be seen with each other around your house."

"So you won't stop hanging out with me in the hallways?"

"Of course I won't. But I guess we have to find a new venue for your literature lessons."

He smiled. Jean felt relief, like the weight of a thousand rocks being lifted off his shoulders. "Yeah, I guess so."

"And no more drinking for you, Jack Frost."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll talk to my mom about this, okay?"

"Okay."

Jean was about to leave the room but Marco caught his hand. Jean looked back and Marco looked just like his mother, trying to find the right words to say. Jean raised his eyebrows, waiting.

"Just in case... just in case I can't convince her... I'll tell you this."

"What?"

"The reason why I asked if you were gay, it's because I know someone who likes you."

Jean was confused. "Well, who is it?"

"I can't say."

"Marco, you've gone this far, might as well get on with it."

"Jean, I'm just saying you should consider the thought that a certain person likes you romantically."

"And when have I ever not considered that thought?"

He stayed quiet.

Jean shook his head and took away his hand but Marco wouldn't let go.

"Dude, I want my hand back." The color red was creeping in on his cheeks.

"I forgot to say this. Thank you, my hero. I'm guessing it's appropriate to say it this time."

Jean's face was fully red. His reply was caught in his throat.

"R-really? Well, I fucking better be. I came here without a shirt. Do you know how cold is it outside?" Marco chuckled and Jean couldn't take it anymore. He muttered a, "See you," and walked out of the room. His palm met his face and let it slide down.

Marco just confirmed his mother's theory.

_Great. Just fucking great._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wouldn't say that Marco's mom is a bitch. I mean, she acted out of shock and anger. As for Marco, he sure does ask a lot of questions.  
> I really try to avoid irrelevant drama because how it would usually go is that Jean would really stop being friends with Marco and then walk out of the hospital room, never to talk to him again. But I know that would seem off since Marco could do something about that, especially since he likes Jean.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean fails at getting high and he and Marco finally settle things.

Mrs. Bodt was nice enough to drive Jean back home. It was the most awkward car ride he had ever experienced. He tried his best not to glare at her from his seat. She wouldn't notice since she didn't dare look at him. He didn't like how she just decided her son's social life just like that. He didn't like how she thought of him and his friends as a threat to her son. It hurt. It hurt a lot.

_It hurt because she was mostly right._

He muttered an inaudible "thanks", thinking if he increased the volume on his voice he wouldn't have sounded too thankful. He closed the car door and watched her drive off back to Marco. He trudged towards the door and went inside. He found his mom wrapped in a snuggie eating popcorn and watching  _Fantastic Mr. Fox._ It was four in the morning.

"Jean-boy, why don't you have a shirt?"

Jean silently walked to the couch, took of his shoes, and squirmed right next to his mom. His voice cracked when he asked if they could share the snuggie.

"What happened, Jean-boy?" she asked.

Words wouldn't form at first. He couldn't focus on the movie either.

"Marco... He fell in the lake. He's in the hospital. It's my fault."

He felt his mom's hand pull him closer. He rested his head on her shoulder and tried so hard to let George Clooney and Meryll Streep's voice calm him down and bring him to sleep. He wanted to cry but no tears came out. 

* * *

When Jean was down in the dumps, he resorted to music. But he often found sad songs with lyrics annoying. Sometimes they couldn't catch the right type of sadness or they just sounded whiny and needy. Arctic Monkeys wasn't whiny and needy. It was still the same day that Marco Bodt fell into the not-so-frozen lake. It was around four in the afternoon. A playlist of all their slow and sad songs was playing on his laptop.  The door was locked and the window was open. He took out a pipe, a lighter, and a Ziploc bag of weed that was hidden safely in a math book he carved out.

 

The bag was only a fourth full. He probably would have finished everything by the end of the day.

This was his getaway from stressful things. His getaway from Mikasa, his getaway from school, his getaway from his dad. It didn't make him forget his problems. It made him apathetic to them. It made him flip a bird to all those problems.

_Am I going to flip the bird to Marco Bodt?_

Honestly, he has no idea what he was going to do with him. They'd probably still hang out at school but the image was too tainted. After yesterday, there was a strange feeling in him that only grew worse and worse as he thought about it. It felt like someone had a good grip on his heart and would squeeze every time he thought about Marco. This was happening for the past hours. What more when he would see Marco? His heart could explode.

He couldn't identify the feeling.

He took a hit.

_Fuck that feeling._

Heavy bass notes and guitar riffs echoed in his room. Alex Turner's voice filled his ears. Would he do Alex Turner? Most definitely. His hair game was extremely strong and his voice felt exactly like what Jean was experiencing, hot smoke in your throat that you slowly exhaled.

 

Who cared anymore? Who cared if Marco's mom could be an ice cold bitch? She had her reasons. Who cared about Marco's dead ex-whatever? His _deadly_ and _dangerous_ ex-whatever? What did Marco see in him?

_What did Marco see in me?_

 

Jesus, what was with the guy? He could have crushed on any of the other guys in the group, hell even the whole school. Like Bert for example. They made nerdy jokes about Star Trek or whatever. What about Armin? They seemed to have fun doing lab reports while Jean and Eren tried not to blow up the lab.

Was he even sure that it was Marco whom he was mentioning earlier?

_"Dude, it's fine. I get what you mean now. That was cu-I mean nice."_

He meant to say cute. Not nice. Jean was sure of that.

_"My mom made two. I don't know why. Lucky she did today, huh?"_

The day before that he had expressively ranted to Marco on how cafeteria food sucked and that he didn't have time to prepare his own lunch at home. He was nice enough as a friend to do that. Too nice.

_"My hero."_

He was no hero. He was just a guy. He was just a guy who worries too much. He was worrying too much about this weird feeling inside him instead of actually thinking of a way to make it stop. All he needed to do was talk to Marco on how... on how...

_On how I think your freckles are adorable and you laugh a lot which makes me laugh a lot. You also smile a lot which has the same effect. How you actually believe in me sometimes while most of my actual friends don't. On how I like you a lot, Marco Bodt. I do._

Jean took another hit. He made sure it circulated through his trachea for a good four seconds before he exhaled.

The last thing Marco needed was a relationship. He just got out of some fucked up friendship. Jean needed to offer him a good solid friendship. That was what he needed.

_I thought this was supposed to be an escape from the problem._

Was the weed expired or something? Did weed get expired? Or maybe he was slipping into his philosophical high, where he actually starts to think about his problems. He took another hit. What was that, his fourth? Fifth? He reached over on his laptop and clicked  _Do I Wanna Know?_ He needed a good song to focus on and sway to.

There was a knock on his door.

_Shit shit shit, hide the weed. HIDE THE WEED._

_"_ Jean!" his mother called behind the door. Strangely she has been out of her room more often these days. "There's someone here to see you."

_Shit._

His mom couldn't smell anymore but he was pretty sure the person who wanted to see him had a nose. He sprayed some cologne over his hoodie.. He stuffed the pipe in one of the drawers and asked, "Um, who is it?"

"Hi," Marco's muffled voice spoke.

_Double shit._

He sighed. "Uh, okay. Come in."

Marco opened the door and closed it behind him. Jean took out the bong from the drawer.

"Is that...?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure this is exactly what your mom was talking about, about me being dangerous."

He shook his head. “Not my first time encountering weed. Not the most dangerous thing I've done here so far.”

None of them said anything for a while. Maybe it was because Marco was scanning his room. Jean felt a bit embarrassed. It wasn't much. There were a few posters on the wall, a Vampire Weekend one, a skyline view of New York, a Deadpool one, and Dia de los Muertos one with one big skull in the middle. There was a bed, a crummy laptop, with Arctic Monkeys still playing, and a desk. He had his books and comic books were kept in a cardboard box since they never got around buying a bookshelf.

"Cool, that's my room over there," he pointed at Jean's window.

"Yeah, cool." Jean replied.

Silence.

"Where's the hole?" Marco asked.

"What?"

"You know, the hole in your ceiling?"

He forgot about that. He should have expected this.

"Why are you here anyway?"

Marco made a face. "I wanted to tell you we're cool. My mom understands now. She's fine. She says sorry about getting angry at you like that. I kind of had to remind her who it was that jumped after me."

Jean nodded, "Okay. I understand why she got mad anyway. But you could have, I don't know, texted?"

"Why? We're neighbors. And I realized that I've never been in your house before and you're always hesitant about me coming over. Why?"

"I... It's stupid. You're here now. Happy?"

He shrugged. "I figured we could hang out."

Jean sighed. "Okay. You want some? You know, just as long you don't get into an accident again."

He chuckled. "I promise I won't."

Jean lost count on how many hits he had. He counted Marco's. Four in total. This wasn't the first time he took weed. He didn't take it often. There was this week in his school where the teachers would schedule all the big projects' deadlines right before their finals. One day he got so stressed Jack had to drag him away from his room. They got so high they finished half Jack's pantry and didn't get up till early morning.

"Seriously, who is this Jack guy? Your mom called him _deadly_ and _dangerous,"_ Jean blurted out.

"I guess he kind of is. He's not exactly the best person to be friends with. He did a lot of stuff."

"Spit it out, Marco. What's with the guy?"

Marco's hands clenched at first. He struggled with his words, starting with "Well..." or "It's..." and then drifted back into thought. "He... Well I guess the worst thing about him was that he was self-centered. He didn't care about the people he harmed when he did things. He was hurting his parents, he was hurting me too. He had this thing about death. He glorified it. He romanticized it. He'd recite poetry about it and then he'd carve it into him sometimes. He was my only friend in school and I was his. So no matter how messed up he was, I couldn't just leave him."

"And then you fell in love with him?"

He sighed. "You know Harley Quinn's and Joker's relationship? A little bit like that. I admired his courage. I admired that he can be openly gay like that. His looks weren't so bad either. He was also charismatic, I had to give him that. I also cared for him. I cared for a person who never cared about me. He just kept me because he had nothing better to do. When he jumped off the bridge, I wanted to jump after him. I wanted to be with him. But one good look down, down at the water, I knew I couldn't do it. I knew I shouldn't do it."

After Marco's explanation, Jean would have to agree with his mother. He was one fucked up motherfucker. He was selfish. He was stupid. How could he do that to someone? How could he do that to Marco? He wished this Jack guy would rise from the dead just so that Jean could sock him in the jaw.

"Since we're playing 20 questions here," Marco muttered after a few minutes of silence, "I have questions for you."

Jean shrugged and took another hit.

"What's something you always wanted for Christmas but never got?"

Jean thought it over. "A puppy."

Marco chuckled. "What kind?"

"Any. I don't know, I just wanted like this excited little thing, or big thing, to greet me whenever I came home. What about you?"

"A mini Chemistry set."

Jean groaned, "I should have guessed."

Marco lightly punched him on his arm. The playlist filled the passing silence. After a few seconds, Marco laid down a question Jean figured was on his mind for a while. "Why are you so ashamed of your house?"

"I don't like being thought as poor," Jean replied curtly.

"But we live in the same type of house, Jean. The same type of neighborhood. You have nothing to hide from me."

"Well you're from fucking New York City with your MacBook and your sweater vests and I'm from Shithole, Alaska. You came from something and I was stuck here from the very beginning. And compare me to all my friends, who live in suburbs that are a whole lot better than this one, you think I wouldn't be a little ashamed?"

Marco pressed his lips together into a straight line. "Jean, you're surrounded by a good group of friends. I highly doubt that they would give two shits about your residential conditions."

Jean squinted at Marco. Who did he think he was? His friend? Because in Jean's vocabulary, the definition of friend was exactly what Marco was doing. And he was doing a pretty good goddamn job at it. 

"All except Jaeger," Jean muttered.

Marco smiled, "Cut Eren some slack and maybe he'll cut some for you too."

Jean grunted. _Yeah, right._

"We're cool now? On your house and stuff? Like, you don't have to lie to me that your house got infested with radioactive termites or something?"

Jean nodded. "Radioactive termites. I like that."

" _Jean."_

"Yeah. We're fine."

"Okay, I got another question."

"You have _so_ many questions. Did you bring a list or something?"

"Well, I don't exactly have a physical copy-"

" _Oh, my fucking god."_

_"_ Just answer the question," Marco groaned.

"Just as long as you stop getting two turns in a row. I have a question for you later."

"Sure. Okay, what happened to your mom?"

Jean tensed up. "Why, did you notice something about her?"

Marco shook his head. "Remember when you were talking about Mikasa? You mentioned how you were like your mom. What did you mean about that?"

Jean gulped. "I, well..."

His mom was in a coma. After a few days of high fever she started to hallucinate. Jean had to bring her to the hospital on his own and he was only in the eight grade. She had this thing where her brain swelled up. He knew more medical terms than an average eighth grader in the span of three months. He lived on his own. She didn't have any family left and Jean's dad was missing. His dad left them when he was five. He was with another family but he still had the audacity to send them money. He still had the audacity to think he had responsibilities back here when he made it clear to them he didn't want them when he left. His mom woke up and she retained her memory, but she would forget a lot of things easily. She lost her sense of smell and taste. She stayed home from now on and rarely left her room. He didn't know what she would do in her room and he didn't want to know. He felt that if she was crying herself to sleep he would be broken to pieces.

"Yeah... you happy now?"

Marco was staring at his shoes. He didn't make a sound when Jean was talking. They were sitting on the floor now. Jean's shoulders were practically touching with Marco's. He has never really felt that conscious of them touching until now.

"I don't want your condolences," he said. "Please don't tell me you're sorry. I've heard enough of that for the rest of my life."

"Then I'd say I'm happy for you."

"What?"

"I'm happy that you're still here, still you. You're not that broken. You're still strong. I'm happy for you."

Jean stared at him but grinned. "You're a weird fucker, Marco."

Marco laughed. "Yeah, I get that a lot.”

"Alright, can this be the last question before we get extremely high?"

"Was that the last question?"

"No. I mean, my question."

"Okay. Shoot."

"Do you like me? In a romantic way?"

Marco's eyes widened. A blush was creeping on his freckled cheeks. Jean saw how he tensed up, how his fists balled.

"Can we be honest here? No more beating around the bush?"

He gulped.

"Please, Marco?"

"Yes."

There it was. He said it.

"You're going to ask why. I know you will, even though you said that would be your last question. And I'll tell you this, Jean Kirschstein, you are a whole lot better than what you think you are. I swear it. You're kind. You're nice. You're funny too. You're nothing like Jack because this time, you care. You care about me and I... I love you for it. Now, I know this is going to make our friendship weirder and I'm sorry but I-"

Jean didn't let him finish. His hand cupped Marco's cheek and he swiftly placed his lips on his. Marco's lips were soft but not as soft as a girl's. Jean kissed him and he kissed back. _No. 1 Party Anthem_ was playing in the background.

_This is great._

_He was happy. He was happy that someone was there to understand. He was happy that Marco let him understand his problems. He was happy that there was someone that could get through his walls, someone who bothered to get through them, and... well, _understand._ _

Adding the fact that they were high, the feeling of euphoria was on a whole other level. He could feel the heat coming from Marco's cheeks. Jean would lick Marco's lips as a question whether or not he could place his tongue inside his mouth. Marco opened up and Jean slipped his tongue in. Marco mewled. It was the best sound Jean had ever heard. Their hands were everywhere. Marco's in Jean's hair. Jean's on Marco's back. He could hear the sloppy sounds that they were making but it was them and only them who could hear them.

Jean pulled back and said, "I guess I kind of like you too."

Marco laughed and placed his forehead on Jean's. "Yeah? Really?"

"Do I have to prove it to you again?"

Marco hummed. "That wouldn't be much of a bad idea."

Jean laughed. He pulled Marco on top of him and kissed him again. And again. And again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently weed doesn't expire. The drier it gets the more potent it is, unless it turns black.  
> Ah, yes, finally. They kiss. FINALLY. I was thinking of writing a more detailed make out session (and hehe it's explicit woo) since I'm going to skip that scene in the next chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean gets another black eye and then grows some balls. Reiner should have ran for president. Levi scares the shit out of Marco.

Monday morning was a little bit awkward. Greeting Marco on the sidewalk left Jean confused.

"What?" Marco asked. Jean didn't realize that he was staring.

"I don't know if I should kiss you on the cheek or something. Should I?"

Marco violently shook his head. "Are you out of your mind? Not where my mom could still see us!"

Jean smirked, "Oh, so I can kiss you on the cheek later?"

Marco blushed. "C'mon we'll be late." He started to walk quickly away from Jean.

Jean chuckled and caught up with Marco. They already discussed what they were going to do later. They were going to come out to the whole gang instead of keeping it a secret like Reiner and Bert. Even with similar circumstances, they were still in different situations. Jean understood that what was going on with Reiner and Bert was much deeper and more confusing than with Jean and Marco.

What he was really looking forward to was dragging Marco back to his room and re-enacting what happened yesterday.

* * *

They arrived at school and found a crowd forming around their locker area. Eren and Ymir were screaming on how the people should move their asses from _their_ lockers before they throw their asses bac their own lockers. Mikasa was ahead of them and pushed away the students in her way. Jean pulled Marco with him to see what the hell was up. They pushed past the crowd towards their lockers.

"Hey, assholes, would you get the fuck out?" Jean yelled.

"Please, we'd like to get to our lockers," Marco said in a slightly louder voice than normal.

For some weird reason, the students let them through. Some of them put down their smart phones and stopped taking pictures. Jean figured out the reason why they were taking pictures when he saw his and Marco's locker.

_Gay._

_Fag._

_Cocksucker._

It felt kind of ironic that their lockers were vandalized with spray paint.

Jean's hand shook. He heard yelling somewhere. It must have been Ymir  or who cares. He wanted to find those snapback wearing dickheads and shove those spray cans right up their ass. He wanted to... He wanted to...

"Well, shit. It looks like someone's got some skills in spray painting," a voice behind him said. Jean turned to look at the person. It was the same group of guys.

Jean flexed his fist and lunged towards them.

* * *

They didn't go to the guidance counselor's office. The universe wasn't going to be kind in this situation. They ended up sitting outside Vice Principal "Eyebrows" Smith's office, waiting for their parents to arrive. Yeah, they called their parents. They told them everything they knew. Jean wasn't freaking out because his mom was going to freak out. They changed their telephone number when the phone accidentally caught on fire a month ago. He would go back home and explain the newly replaced black eye, bruises, and busted lip as a dodge ball accident again.

He was freaking out on what was going to be Mrs. Bodt's reaction. Just looking at Marco made Jean ten times more nervous. His leg was shaking like crazy. Jean placed his hand on it to calm him down. He was worried that Marco would eat his lower lip. He didn't angry at those dickheads. Jean saw him, saw it in his eyes, that he _was_ ready to throw some punches. But he digressed. He was one of the people that broke up the fight. And Jean really... he really appreciated that. Marco had control. Marco had resolve. Marco had patience. Marco had wisdom. He was starting to see just how strong Marco was.

_A whole lot stronger than what his mother thinks._

"How did they bully you back in New York, for being openly gay and all?" Jean asked.

Marco pressed his lips together in thought. At least that stopped him from eating his lips. Jean really liked those lips after all. "Not bad in high school. They were pretty open about homosexuality there. Everyone was to busy prepping for the SATs to bully. But I have been bullied. Back in junior high, I, well, came out to a friend, who happened to have the biggest mouth on earth. I got pushed into lockers and oh, this one's good. I got egged. Purple eggs. I did appreciate all the effort those guys went through to dye all those eggs purple."

Jean's mouth was open. "And you were cool with that?"

Marco shook his head, "The egg incident sparked up some LGBT rebellion and we painted the school mascot rainbow. They called my parents on that."

Jean didn't even have to ask. Marco explained the elephant in the room.

"She freaked. That's one of the reasons why I switched from a normal public school to a specialized one. She'll freak again today and-"

"Call me a bad influence."

Marco nodded with a sorry look in his eye. "Yes, she will do that. And probably a whole lot of other things."

"Is it me or do is it weird that she _isn't_ freaking out that you're gay? Isn't that how it usually goes in the books?" Jean blurted out.

Marco chuckled. God, that chuckle could cure cancer. "Yeah. Our parents are finally looking at the thing that matters, huh?"

"Yeah," he replied. "She's not going to send you away this time. She can't, I mean, there aren't any other schools in the area besides those strict religious ones. And hell, you just got here."

"We'll see."

Jean didn't like the sound of that. He was definitely afraid that Julie would have an outburst and blame it on Jean, even though it wasn't exactly their relationship that caused this. He wasn't even sure what _was_ the root of this all. What he did know was he did play a part in it, which would probably be enough for Julie to ban her son from ever seeing him again.

And he didn't want that. He was ready to face those assholes twenty more times just as long as Marco was standing at the sidelines, ready to knock some sense into him. He would do it for him.

"They should have let you stayed in the clinic with your busted face," Marco said softly.

Jean smirked, "Don't tell me you're dumping me already just because I lost my wonderful looks."

Marco laughed. In a few seconds his thumb was brushing against Jean's wounds. First, his knuckles. Second, his eye. Jean still tensed up at his touch, even after yesterday where he spent hours touched and being touched by him.

And last, his lips.

"Hey, shitheads. No sex in the vice principal's office."

_Good ol' Mr. Levi._

The short guy, Vice Principal Eyebrow's lover/secretary stood at the doorway with his arms folded across his chest and eyebrows knitted in the middle, giving him his signature glare. He reeked of cigarettes which he was probably smoking at the faculty parking lot earlier.

Marco squeaked and his hands instantly went to the top of his lap. That was Jean's initial reaction in meeting Levi.  Jean returned the scowl. Mr. Levi returned to his desk and stared at them.

"I heard what they did to you,"he started.

"Yeah, well, apparently so did the rest of the school," Jean replied.

"Don't interrupt me," he snarled. "As I was saying, that was a pretty shitty thing to do. Same with your friend, whatsername. The dyke and the small brat."

Jean narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. Why are you talking to us about it? What do you care?"

When has Mr. Levi  ever shown sympathy? Jean has only heard rumors, beating up a student or teacher and even kicking a puppy, but the guy stank of the lethargic vibe.  
"Kid, I experienced the same fucking thing. And you know what, it still hurts. But you two don't seem too affected by it."

"Well, I-"

"Yeah, because it's full of crap. We shouldn't be affected by crap. We are actually going to do something about it."

Jean stared at Marco. What did he mean by that?

"Oh, yeah? What _are_ you going to do about it?"

Marco blinked for a while. Jean wanted to yell that he should have expected that question.

"Er... we can form an alliance. I heard about the GSAs in other schools. We don't have one here."

Levi just blinked.

"I mean, power in numbers, right? And these bullies, they only follow what they know, what's the norm. If we show that a GSA is first, possible, and second, logical, and so on, they could stop targeting homosexuals."

"You're too smart for this school, kid. I'll just give Vice Principal Smith a heads up."

"Uh, what's a GSA?" Jean asked.

"Gay Straight Alliance," Marco replied.

Jean made an "o" with his mouth. He guessed the closest thing to that in their school was his group. Then again, he wasn't so sure any of them were straight. Maybe a Gay Bisexual Alliance?

"That would be cool," Jean mumbled.

"I wonder how it would play out here. I mean.." and then he prattled of about political things. Marco never struck Jean as political. But now? He could practically imagine the campaign posters.

The door burst open and Marco halted to a stop. Mrs. Bodt rushed towards her son and cradled his face. Words of worry, endearment, assurance, and anger were exchanged. Jean scooted away from the scene, hoping that Julie wouldn't notice him for, well, at all. The his eyes landed at the door.

His mother was there with a pack of ice in her hands. She made her way towards Jean but he immediately met her half-way.

"Mom?" his voice croaked. She was out of the house. She was walking outside. She was wearing something that weren't pajamas.

"Jean-boy! Your face!" She clicked her tongue. "This school doesn't know how to take care of my boy. I have to go all the way down here to do it myself, huh?" she chuckled as she pressed the cold ice to his face. It stung but Jean couldn't feel any happier. Cold water and warm tears mixed and slid down his face.

Mr. Levi cleared his throat and escorted them inside to Vice Principal Smith's office.

* * *

Mr. Smith had explained to them the current situation. Those asshats were suspended for a week and the incidents were recorded in their own permanent record, which would affect their admissions to certain colleges. They were also supposed to apologize to Jean and Marco personally. Jean scoffed at that, thinking that their apologies were half-assed and worthless. He didn't want to see their bruised and ugly faces for a good ten years in the first place.

Mrs. Bodt seemed to be pleased with the charges. Marco too. Jean looked at his mother if this was getting through her at all and it was.

"And what if it continues? I'm not just talking about it happening to my boy but to others as well?" she asked.

"They will be expelled, of course," Mr. Smith frankly said.

She nodded. "That seems fair. Will this be all, Vice Principal?"

He escorted them outside his office and into the waiting room. They were supposed to say their goodbyes to their parents and return to class. Jean had an idea of skipping because at the current moment he was not in the mood for a lesson on German fascism.

He hugged his mom and asked, "How did you get here? And do you want me to bring you home?"

His mom shook her head.

"I brought her here. I'll be driving her home too, Jean," Julie said. She put her hands on her hips and he knew that that was the stance women gave before they leaped into a lengthy rant.

"Jean-"

"Before you tell me how this was all my fault, let me please please say that you shouldn't take Marco away." Her eyebrows shot up and she opened her mouth to retaliate but Jean didn't let her. "I understand why you would but you shouldn't. He's fine here. We're fine here. The locker thing, that wasn't our faults exactly. And if you're trying to escape _that_ then you'll be moving a whole lot. But you have to see how Marco handled it. He is a lot stronger than you think. He is a lot stronger than I think. I... I think he's good for me and I... really like him, okay?"

His eyes darted to see Marco's reaction. It was priceless.

"He's right, mom," he said. "We are fine."

Jean expected anger and retaliation but she didn't give any of that. She smiled and placed her hands on Jean's shoulders. "I wasn't going to say that we were moving, Jean."

_Well, shit._

"But thank you for proving your mom right."

"What?"

Both moms shared a knowing smile. "We talked on the drive here. She convinced me I was being too hard on you. And I was, I'm sorry. I planned to stop by today and apologize. And this happened. I wanted to say that what you did was stupid, but brave. You were willing to protect my son. Thank you."

Jean suddenly felt dizzy. Was this all actually happening? He turned to Marco who was smiling like crazy. He reached for Jean's hand and squeezed it tightly. He brushed his thumb over Marco's palm in return.

They walked their moms to the doors of the school. That left the two of them in an empty hallway.

"You wanna skip class?" Marco asked.

"Woah there, Marco. We can't do something so devious and irresponsible!" Jean said.

Marco rolled his eyes. "Is that a yes or a no?"

Jean took his hand and started walking. "C'mon let's find an empty closet somewhere." He turned to see if Marco was okay with sucking off each other's faces, and a little bit more than that, till lunch. His face was twenty different shades of red. He had a smile on his face.

Jean took that as a yes.

* * *

The whole table was a mixture of feelings. Jean figured that him and Marco didn't need to announce they were a couple. The whole table rolled their eyes at them.

"I think the only ones who didn't know were the both of you," Connie said.

"It was so obvious, astronauts could see it from space," Sasha joked.

Nevertheless, Reiner halfheartedly smacked their backs on a job well done. Jean wasn't sure what he meant by that. Bert simply smiled and congratulated them. Annie smiled as well. Jean was going to miss these three when they graduate.

Speaking of emotions, some of them were gleaming with satisfaction that some action was finally taken against those assholes.

"I mean, they have like this warning sign over them now for colleges next year when they're applying. I think that's pretty just," Armin said.

"Yeah, but that would make colleges _hesitate._ It doesn't mean that would totally stop them from applying. They could have connections. Like that one guy's mom, I heard that she's on some board of trustees somewhere," Eren argued.

Glares were thrown across the table.

"What? I'm just saying," he defended.

"Yeah, that's true," Jean murmured in between bites of Marco's tuna sandwich that he brought for him.

"You're agreeing with me?" Jaeger gasped.

"Don't make me say it again, Jaeger," Jean replied.

Honestly, Jean and Marco couldn't give a flying fuck what would happen to them in the future. He imagined himself having a smug look on his face as he entered a local McDonald's to see one of those assholes behind the counter with a smile ready to serve him his lunch, but that didn't seem fair to them either. All they had to do was wait for that promised apology and the absence of queer bullying in the school.

But some of them at the table wasn't satisfied with their punishment. Jean could see the tight-lipped face that Ymir was making. Connie and Sasha seemed ready to spring on those guys, possibly spray painting their garages as revenge. Jean had this philosophy about revenge, rather retribution. If he was to spray paint their garages with the offensive words, it was practically the same thing they did to him. He would become them. And that was the last thing he wanted.

_Lessons you learn from reading Batman._

Although Reiner and Bert were never bullied by them, it still affected them. It still hurt for them.

Reiner sighed. "You know, let's not talk about it anymore. Let's talk about something else. I.. well, I have an announcement to make."

"Another party?" Sasha piped up.

"I'm not going to have a party for a while after what happened to someone over there," he joked. Laughs went around for everyone, even Marco.

Reiner pushed away the trays on the table and stepped up on it. Bert's eyes went wide with horror.

"Reiner! You're not going to-"

"It's okay. It's going to be fine," he assured him.

Jean's eyes darted from Reiner's soft expression to Bert's terrified one.

_Oh._

Reiner cleared his throat loudly for effect. "HEY, TROST HIGH. LISTEN UP." A few people stopped eating and dropped their utensils down, making a chorus of _clinks_ echo through the cafeteria.

"Hey, I'm Reiner Braun, yeah. You know me," he said so casually. "So you guys heard about what happened to my friend Jean, Marco, Ymir and Christa. They got their lockers vandalized by some assholes. And just saying, said assholes have been suspended for a week and other things. That's pretty fair to me, don't you guys think?"

Some silent nods and shrugs. Others just kept staring.

"Anyways, if you're still in the mood for vandalizing homosexual, bisexual, or queer people in general's lockers... you're always welcome to mine. In other words, yeah I'm gay. Hell, I'm gay for Bertholdt Fubar. So what? What's the big deal? I've been gay ever since and that didn't stop me from joining the football team or throwing awesome parties that you all love. I didn't do anything wrong. Bert didn't do anything wrong. Neither did Ymir, Christa, Jean and Marco. So stop treating them like they did. Or you can go meet my left fist and my right fist personally."

Annie pulled on his pant leg and went up to stand next to him. "Mine too," she said.

Ymir was the next one to stand. She grinned and made a pounding gesture with her fists. "You guys have seen us fight."

Mikasa stood on the floor instead of the table. She didn't have to say anything. The rest followed. Eren, Connie, Sasha, and Jean himself felt compelled to stand. Armin, Bert, and Marco were sitting down with smiles on their faces. Jean knew these guys wouldn't lift a fist on anyone and that was cool too.

Slowly other people started to stand with them.  Thomas Wagner and Mina something. Their group of friends. Franz and his girlfriend. A handful of people who Jean have passed in the hallways, sat in class with, and never expected to see standing with them. Others hesitated, waited for more people to stand till they finally grew the balls to stand up themselves. Some were glued to their seats and pretended to continue eating.

And well, fuck them. They didn't need them. This was all they needed, a reassurance that they were definitely not alone in this. 

Jean only had one word to describe this.

_Awesome. Plainly, truly awesome._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful feedback! I put off writing this fic for a few days cause I was on vacation in this lovely place called Vigan, Ilocos. Anyways, to rickylee, thank you for that information! Too bad the subs that I watched never specified that and used Jean-boy instead. I'll be sticking to it because, even if it's not canon, I find it more appropriate here.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prom night and some deep thoughts.

Jean was happy to get some fresh spring air after spending five hours at his job. It was a bookstore not too far from home called "The Basement". It sure felt like one. If the owner ever wanted to change the name Jean would nominate "Stuffy & Dusty". The manager was this lunatic who didn't look that female and didn't look that male either. Hanji would always creep the customers out by spouting random facts. Let's take elephant feces for example. She would shout at them for their horrible book tastes. Hanji would egg Jean with questions about Levi and Vice Principal Erwin. Apparently they were friends.

_You weirdos deserve each other._

Jean didn't mind the copious amount of manual labor it took to move and shelve books. The pay was good enough to last him till he graduated. Marco would drop by too. Jean would give him a two feet tall stack of books that he has been missing out but Marco would always pause to reread for the nth time  _The Mouse and the Motorcycle._  They would also make-out at the classics section behind Hanji's back. He would suppress the pain of getting pressed by the hardcover edition of Charles Dicken's complete biography as Marco gently, or hungrily, kissed his lips.

Jean side stepped a puddle on the verge of becoming a pool on the sidewalk. Spring had melted the ice and Maria City was slippery as hell. Jean nearly fell on his ass while walking to school but he clutched onto Marco, who almost had his clothes ripped off of him. If he did fall, Jean would have had a wonderful sight before him. Lake Utgard was back to being a lake. Sasha and Connie had mud ball fights instead of snow ball ones. Jean could imagine them in the future, settled and rings on each other's fingers. The gang was already placing bets that Sasha would ask Connie to prom because she had the bigger balls. Jean believed he'd actually man up.

_Well, he better or I lose twelve bucks._

Speaking of prom, the GSA had convinced their principal that they should allow same-sex dates and cross dressing, much to Ymir's joy. Marco had organized a pretty strong force. They held meetings often and the bullying definitely decreased. Every time Jean passed those dickheads that vandalized their lockers, he simply smirked at them. A smirk that yelled,  _You can't touch this._

_Dununun._

It was... greatly satisfying. Spring brought change. Good change.

A few weeks before he was greeted by a large and fat manila envelope on top of the kitchen counter. Its contents were two pages of scrawl from his father. He was congratulating him for making it this far in life, which struck Jean as stupid because that meant his dad expected him to die early or to not make it into senior year. If he'd actually go home and check on his  _first_  family, he'd be congratulating Jean on other things like successfully handling a relationship with another boy or finally having his mom walk out of the house and plant some flowers with Mrs. Bodt at the front lawn.

His dad prattled more on he felt sorry that he never visited, throwing excuse after excuse. He started talking about the importance of college so he sent him the money he has been saving up ever since ever since his birth. He told him to put in the bank and let them handle it.

A total of 25,000 dollars. Jean hated to admit he felt happy about this. The topic of his college fees were never discussed between him and his mom. It was a fucking relief that he had something to work with here. It urged him to get off his ass and stop spending on weed or books.

He told his dad thanks. He also said that he was a dick for not trying harder to visit. The next time he was going to send money to them it better be in person or else Jean was going use all that green to wipe his ass. But thanks.

He unlocked the door of his house and entered. The sun was just setting and the sunlight bathed his living room orange. They no longer kept the curtains drawn or the blinds shut.

"Bark!"

Jean's eyes widened. 

"Bark!"

The sound was coming from his room. Did his mother let a stray dog in? Jean was allergic to dog hair. It made his face red and itchy every time he came in contact with them. He looked like a fucking angry tomato. That was why he never got a dog. Not even adding the fact he had no idea how to care for one. He couldn't even remember to feed his goldfish. 

"Bark!"

He walked towards his room. Jean prayed to whatever mighty being there was up above that it wasn't getting dog hair on his bed.  
He pushed the door open and found a robot dog on his bed.

_A robot what?_

He has seen the exact same thing on commercials back when he was a kid. It had thick and flat plastic flaps for ears and a black pixel screen where its eyes were supposed to be. It was in a sitting position and had a rolled up paper in its mouth.

"Bark!" it said without moving its mouth. 

Jean wondered if this was the cryptic start of those action movies where there's this assassin's league that wanted to recruit him. Although, assassin's would have used something much classier, and related, than a robot dog. Like the message would be wrapped inside a bullet shell or something. Was an evil toy factory planning to recruit him?

_Only one way to find out..._

He took the roll of paper from its mouth and read it. 

_"Happy birthday! -Marco."_

Jean could feel the smile grow larger as the realization sunk in.

"Do you like it?"

The voice scared the living crap out of him. He dropped the paper, screamed and almost fell on his ass but he grabbed his desk at just the right time. His hand was clutching his beating heart. 

"Goddamn you, Marco!" he yelled out to the window. Marco's upper body was propped up against the window sill. He had this giddiness in his eyes, like scaring Jean was the least of his worries. "I told you to stop doing that!"

He chuckled. "Answer the question!"

Jean let out an exasperated sigh and then changed his whole disposition completely. "I love it." He reached over and cradled the little thing in his arms. "Where in god's tarnished name did you get it?"

"Okay, don't get mad. I kinda scavenged it from my old toys. It was one of the things I couldn't leave back at New York even if it stopped working. You mentioned you wanted a dog, but since you're allergic, I thought of it. I went to the robotics team and tinkered with it. I think they want me to be a member."

Jean was about to reply to that but Marco cut him off. "Hold on, watch this," and he ducked into his room to retrieve a small remote control. He brought it to his lips. The dog perked up and opened its mouth, saying in Marco's voice, "Will you go to prom with me?"

Jean smiled. He kept smiling. 

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Of course, yes, you ass. Speaking of asses, get yours here right now so I can kiss your lips till they hurt."

Marco blushed. "Give me two seconds."

Jean laughed. He placed the dog down and patted its head. It barked and emitted the sound of a dog panting with happiness. He figured he'd name it give it a unique name. He remembered that joke Connie once made that if ever he had a chance to name a dog he'd call it "Syndrome" so he could say, "Down, Syndrome!"

_Plus, Syndrome is a cool name. Kinda fits the whole robot dog thing, you know?_

* * *

Later that night the two families had dinner together on the Bodt's porch. Julie and Jean's mom had cooked food that made Jean's eyes roll back in his head with pleasure. The food was swimming in butter but was Jean complaining? Hell no. 

They discussed on the details of prom. The color of the tuxes. The car. The flowers. The little things that made the night more special than any other night. 

Jean and Marco were on dish washing duty as their moms enjoyed a cup of coffee and some Family Feud. Jean would repeat to Marco how amazing what he did earlier. Marco would wave the compliment away. Jean would argue not to wave it away. Marco would retaliate that Jean has done nicer things. Jean would point out that they were actually arguing who was nicer among both of them. They would laugh it off. 

The night ended with them sleeping to an episode of Game of Thrones in Marco's living room. Their mothers left them there, knowing that they weren't going to do anything devious with Mrs. Bodt sleeping right upstairs. 

* * *

The suit was uncomfortable. Jean felt if he lifted his arms up he'd tear the sleeves off. It was a cheap suit that he rented from town. He figured if he was only going to use this for only two nights in his life might as well spend minimal money. He swore the collar was going to decapitate his head while he was slow dancing with his boyfriend.

_Right, I have a boyfriend now._

It still hasn't sunken in yet and it hit him hard like a rock to the head every time he remembered it. They agreed to finally call themselves boyfriends while eating Doritos on Jean's couch. It could have been more romantic but they have been dating for two months. They didn't need a romantic boat ride on a lake to say that they belonged to each other. Jean told him while he still had half-chewed Doritos in his mouth.

His mom rang the doorbell. In her hands was a white rose that had a pin attached to it. She picked it straight from her new garden. Mrs. Bodt had agreed to prepare separately. "It gave more  _wow_  factor", she said. She opened the door with a big smile on her face. She already had the camera in her hands. Jean cringed. If he judged Julie's character right, she would want a picture of them in every room of their house, including the outside. 

_Great, more time in this suit._

"Marco! Jean's here!" she called him from downstairs.

"Coming!" he replied. His voice sounded a bit choked. Jean wondered if Marco even knew how to tie a bow tie. He remembered that time where he showed up to school in his sweater vest and bow tie and he couldn't help but chuckle. 

She saw the rose in his mother's hands and gasped. "That looks lovely. You grown it yourself?" And then they prattled off about flowers while Jean waited at the foot of the stair case. He saw a shadow move across the wall. Marco hurriedly went down the stairs while fixing his cuff links. He spotted Jean and nodded. 

"Hey."

"Uh..."

Could anyone blame him? The suit fit him perfectly. Hell, Marco looked like he was born to wear this specific suit.

"Hello? Earth to Jean?" Marco poked his temple. Jean shook his head, his face deep red.

"S-sorry," he stammered. "You look nice." 

"Thank you," he smiled. "You look great too."

"Thank yo-"

"Alright, you two! Time for pictures!" Julie announced and dragged Jean and Marco by the arms. He felt like the only way to release himself from her grip was to chop his arm off. 

They had pictures by the stairs and the living room. They had pictures of pinning their boutonnieres on each other. They had pictures with each other's mom's. Lastly, they had pictures on the outside of the house.

Both of their mother's were grinning like crazy. They reminded them that they should get home two in the morning in one piece. Jean pressed his lips to his mother's cheek and said goodbye. Julie held out her arms to embrace him. 

They said their nth goodbyes and Jean finally took Marco's hand and started walking to the bus stop where everyone agreed to meet up before dinner.

* * *

They were in their positions. Jean, Marco, Connie and Sasha were behind the stage, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie were at the sound booth, Ymir, Eren and Mikasa were handling the lights at the back. Armin and Christa were recording the whole thing from their seats.

Prom was set up at the football field for a change of scenery. The theme was "Carpe Diem" and Jean couldn't roll his eyes enough without them falling out of their own sockets. The prom committee took the Latin thing seriously so they opted to take it to the field so that they could pull off the braziers without the smoke alarms blaring. The girls were in goddess dresses. As for the guys, it was too fucking cold to pull off a toga. The whole gang sat at one table and they sort of had a world of their own. Ymir showed up in an impeccable suit. Mikasa looked beautiful in this dark red dress and Jean didn't feel as nervous as he did before upon complimenting her. They didn't listen to what awards they were presenting because they couldn't give a flying shit about them. Except for when Christa was awarded for best dressed. They cheered on the top of their lungs as she walked up to get her laurel leaves. Ymir was still screaming "CHRISTA, THAT'S MY GIRL!" as Christa was walking back to their table. Christa's face was so red they all teased her about it. 

Food was adequate. Songs were terrible. Who would play  _Dark Horse_  by Katy Perry at a dance? Someone show these kids the wonder of 8tracks. But as he turned to rant to Marco about the horrible playlist, he saw that his foot was tapping with the beat. His head was nodding too.

"You wanna dance? I mean, the song is shit and all but I guess that won't matter. But really, Dark Horse? God, people these days. Next thing you know they'll be playing something like... I don't know, Iggy Azalea? She's a good artist and all but really? At a prom? I-"

"Jean, shut up."

Jean blinked at pressed his lips together.

"I'd love to dance," Marco smiled. "Just as long as you don't comment on the music." He stood up and stretched his hand out for Jean to take. He took his hand and they made their way to the dance floor. At that moment, the DJ announced that they were switching to the slow dance playlist. The first song was a Frank Sinatra ballad. Jean sighed in relief. 

_Thank you, Universe._

Jean wrapped his arms around Marco's neck and they swayed to the hot jazz. He never realized how much taller Marco was compared to him. Probably just a few centimeters of course.  Marco's face was only inches away from Jean's. He could see almost every scattered freckle clearly. He pulled him a little bit closer and rested his head on his shoulder.

"Let's try our best not to step on each other's feet?" Marco said.

"Pfft, excuse you. I'm a great dancer," Jean scoffed.

"Really?" Marco asked in surprise.

"What's with the tone of surprise? I don't look like it?"

Marco chuckled. "I'm sorry but no, you don't."

Jean sighed. "Yeah, you caught me."

"But this is nice," Marco suddenly said with a lighter tone.

"Swaying?"

"Yeah. You're good at swaying."

Jean laughed. "You're not bad yourself."

They continued to sway to the next two slow songs. The gang had huddled around them in pairs. On the corner of Jean's eyes he saw Mikasa and Annie hitting it off. Jean mentally shrugged. Why the hell not? Connie and Sasha were holding each other closer than ever next to Jean and Marco. Jean smiled at those two. One of the reasons was that he was twelve dollars richer because of Connie. 

The beat changed to something more fast-paced. At some point Eren, Jean and Connie were crumping on the dance floor, laughing their asses off while they were doing it. It was to  _Yeah_  by Usher.

"I told you had skills," Jean huffed when he returned to Marco, who was recovering from laughing  _his_  fine ass off.

"I'm sorry I doubted you!" he replied and kept laughing. 

Shortly after Reiner told them that it was time. They gradually left their table to avoid suspicion. They have been briefed back at the pizza parlor at dinner over some three four cheese pizzas and three meat lover's. It was one of the senior's last hurrah before graduation. They have been planning this for weeks and when Reiner broke it to the juniors, they couldn't stop laughing.

Principal Pixis was with Vice Principal Smith on stage giving the closing remarks about prom. Something about school tradition. Something about Latin shit. Who cared? Jean's pocket vibrated. He checked the message and saw that it was the signal from Reiner. 

He nodded at the others. They nodded back. Jean and Marco hefted the portable projection screen and climbed the ladder that had been set up beforehand. They let it roll down from the top of the stage, right behind the administrators' backs. They clipped it to the metal railing and climbed back down.

As Principal Pixis and Vice Principal Smith were talking about tradition and blah blah their faces that were photoshopped on bodybuilder bodies, superheros, and of course popular memes were being projected on the set up screen. All the photos were shown beforehand and Jean especially liked the L'Oreal eyebrow liner ad with VP Smith's face.

The crowd burst into hysterics. Now, you'd think they'd be in deep shit with their principal for interrupting his speech with joy and amusement. But Pixis was such a fruit loop, hell nobody knew how old he was, he just laughed a long. Jean forgot what he exactly said but it must be along the lines of, "Ah, yes youth these days and their love for life! Good for them!" 

He chuckled and nudged Commander Eyebrows with his elbow. Vice Principal Smith seemed like he wanted to get the whole over with. He didn't bother to turn around anymore and simply ended the speech with a, "Have a wonderful evening!" By the time he escorted Principal Pixis the screen had finished showing a gif of both administrators twerking

The crowd whooped and cheered. Reiner texted that everything was over and everyone rolled back the projection screens. Claps on the backs went all around.

As to how they never got suspended... they all just assumed that the teachers all had a good laugh about it as well.

They skipped the latter night of prom. Jean wasn't in the mood for fist-pumping to EDM music for two hours straight and neither was Marco. They were supposed to follow the gang to Eren's house to just chill and smoke some weed. Marco tugged on Jean's jacket sleeve.

"I have an idea," he said. 

"Cool. What's your idea?"

Marco had this devious smile on him. "I'll show you."

* * *

They lost their virginities in the Art Room on prom night. Jean had always kept a spare key of the art room to access some materials he could never get, like spray paint. He paid the janitor to get it duplicated with a small packet of weed. 

Losing his virginity wasn't as embarrassing as he thought it would be. Granted, both of them were virgins but they were comfortable with each other. 

"Dude, I think there's a paintbrush going up my ass," Jean moaned sexily while Marco pressed him against the wall.

Marco had to stop kissing his neck before bursting in hysterics. "Oh my god, you killed the mood."

"Sorry," he mumbled and pulled Marco in for a kiss. One of them would make the other laugh in the middle of sex but they got back on track right away. 

* * *

One night they were lying down on the roof of Marco's car. His mom let him pick whichever piece of shit he wanted from the piece of shit car store. But it was Marco's piece of shit so Jean found it acceptable. A second-hand blue Honda Civic with a busted radio and forever smelled like oranges.

Jean never appreciated the sky as much as he did that night. In this rural town, the light pollution wasn't that bad. He brought up his hand and traced the fifteen stars he could see. How did those crazy Greeks managed to make shapes out of these dots? When did they ever feel the need to stop connecting everything and seperate them into distinct shapes? Jean wanted to know what figure did the universe make when you connect all its stars. 

Stars. Giant balls of fire yet small dots in the sky. Like light freckles.

_I swear I don't remember smoking pot today._

Speaking of freckles, he stole a glance at Marco who was staring up as well.

"Are you forming anything?" he asked.

Jean shook his head. "Just connecting the dots." He rolled on his side and focused on Marco's face. His finger traced the dots on his face, wondering just what kind of shape he could make. The heart he tried making was a little too pointy.

"Jean, I have a thought. You know how the universe is so immense in size?"

"I see you like those astronomy books I got you from the bookstore," he mumbled. "What about the universe?"

"Well, since it's so big, nothing could be impossible. The possibility of anything happening is as huge as the universe. What I'm getting at here is about alternate universes. I had a dream last night. It wasn't pleasant." His voice became softer and Jean could hear the fear developing in it. He took his hand and squeezed, telling him to go on.

  
"There were these things. Giant humanoids that eat other humans. Weird naked looking humanoids. I saw them take a bite out of someone then a few moments later he just puked human remains out. God, it was horrible. It wasn't set in today. It looked like some town in Europe. I don't know where that came from. Shit, it was terrible."

Jean turned to see if there were tears in his eyes. Nothing so far. Marco wouldn't meet his gaze.

"You were there. So were the rest of them. But I... I wasn't with you. I was in a fire. The look in your face... I kind of assumed, well you know how it is in dreams, that you were burning me... Cremating me..."

"Marco that was just a dream," Jean said softly. "It's over."

"I know it is but it felt so real. I never have vivid dreams but that was just like a movie playing in my head. What if... there was another dimension out there? Another world where we exist as other people? How many times have I died? How many times have I been reborn?"

Jean never dismissed the thought. Alternate universes. That was possible. 

"Well... that would be cool. The universe could never have too many Jeans," he tried to lighten the mood. "But what could we do about that? Honestly, I wouldn't care. Alternate Jean probably has his shit together. Or eventually will. As for you dying, I don't really know what to say about that. I guess I am sad that you lived a short lifein that dimension. I definitely know I'm happy that you're alive. Add the fact that you're here with me." Jean gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and continued, "If you're worried about having another nightmare, you could come over later."

Marco smiled. 

"I'm glad I moved to Alaska."  
\----------------  
When Annie, Bert and Reiner were driving out to their university they saw on the bridge that connected Maria City to Sina a giant spray painted dick on the side. Reiner took his phone and texted Jean and Marco,  _Awesome job._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I'm done  
> Holy shit I finished my first more than 3 chapters fanfic  
> Thank you for all the praise and for all the suggestions I really had fun writing this fanfic this summer. Honestly, I never thought I'd write a fanfic of Jeanmarco but hey I did cool. I really hope you all liked it and I shall possibly upload the epilogue of this soon. I'm not sure but we'll see!  
> I have a [tumblr](http://ira-phile.tumblr.com/) if you wanna hit me up.


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